Bad Desire
by RedheadScorpion
Summary: Elizabeth is eighteen years old when her life changes dramatically. Tensions are raised when her father's thirty something year old friend Red, using a different alias, comes to stay for a week. What happens if the lines are crossed when she develops a crush on the man? Will she ever come to learn of his true identity as a criminal? Lizzington. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Hiya, I'm new to this area of writing Blacklist Fanfiction. I was writing another fandom but gave up as uninterested but I have become a new fan of the Blacklist and have gobbled it up greedily in one go. This is my first attempt at writing a BL story, and its not going to follow the show very well. It will contain an underage romance between a young Elizabeth and older Red (but he will be in his mid thirties in this, and Elizabeth will be seventeen.)**

 **I don't know what will be thought of it, but if it is something that you would be interested in more of, it would be appreciated to know. English isn't my first language also, to be warned. So I apologize if anything is amiss.**

* * *

 _ **Bad Desire**_

Fake 10 dollar, 1 dollar and 100 dollars notes were splayed out all around the coffee table. Elizabeth sat with her father, Sam, as they got ready to play Monopoly. It had quickly become their Wednesday night ritual, the only time Sam felt comfortable allowing Elizabeth to stay up late, seeing as every other night was mostly important school nights.

That morning, he had attended a parent teacher meeting, where her English teacher had commented on how reserved and shy his seventeen year old daughter had seemed in personality, with not putting her hand up or contributing much in class. At home, now, Sam found it hard to believe.

Shy or reserved was the very last thing he would have referred to his Butterball as, particularly as she sat on her knees beside where he sat in his regular armchair, concentrating on kicking his butt on each latest game. Every time they played, Sam had quickly learned how much of a winning, competitive streak she had; Their Monopoly games tended to escalate, to the point where Elizabeth would be giggling in victory at having stolen a property Sam had secretly intended to buy in the board game when his turn came.

On this particularly day, after making sure Elizabeth had completed her homework and study, they brought out the board game, setting up the cards. It was a usual quiet night, aside from the television that was going softly in the background. Elizabeth was sorting out the bank notes in their usual methodical order- from highest, to lowest- when they both heard a knock on the front door. They shared a confused look then both broke out into a chuckle. Interruptions at this time of the night were not frequent.

"Think I heard someone at the door," Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair, setting his feet to stand. "How about you keep on setting up ready for our game while I go check and see who it is, Butterball?"

Elizabeth murmured in agreement affably as she stood on her knees, resuming with placing all the cards in their appropriate places on the board while her father left the room.

Hoisting the frayed strap of the bag over his shoulder, the man approached the fairly large Nebraskan house by going up the extended driveway. It had been close to eleven years since he had last visited his old friend Sam's house; a moment he thought of very often, though the time lapse and how quickly the time had flown became only discernible now.

Weeks ago, the man had arrived back into the country after travelling to various locations over the months after having pulled out of the US Naval Academy. He had spent several more months abroad, building a syndicate of contacts that consisted of high-end thieves, spies, drug dealers, human traffickers, and arms dealers.

He knew it was dangerous returning to Sam, especially when he had been ranked Number 4 on the FBI's Most Wanted, yet he had nowhere else to go, nowhere safe to rest and take a break awhile.

He had run out of options since returning to the States. Sam's place was the last resort and he had decided Nebraska would be more settling, for the time being.

He wasn't sure how his old friend was going to react to his unexpected, surprise drop-in on his doorstep. He only intended to stay for a short while, about a week or two at the very most, just until he got settled on his feet and knew what to do next. A part of him was excited to see Sam again. A part of him was even more excited at the idea of seeing the little girl inside the house that he hadn't seen since she was a mere child of four.

Ascending the front steps of the house, Red hadn't even planned to bother knocking until it occurred to him how impolite it may have been considered of him. He brought himself to knock, chewing his cheek as he heard footsteps from inside descending on him.

"Who is it?" He heard Sam call briskly through the door first without opening it.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement at Sam. This suspicious behavior did not surprise him.

"Sam, it's me. Red," he called back, waiting for the response.

He heard it unlock, various metal bolts and chains sliding through slats, and then the door creaked halfway open. Sam stood there, looking out at him, speechless.

He looked at the man who stood literally at his doorstep, unprepared for his reemergence into his life. Immediately, he slipped quietly and carefully out the front door, closing it halfway with a cautious look through the crack in the doorway to ensure Elizabeth was nowhere within earshot. Sam's arms were quick to embrace the man; the two remaining in a joyful embrace as they laughed, thumping each other on the back.

"What are you doing here, Ray? You're putting me in an incredibly risky situation here."

"I'm sorry, Sam, I know. But I had nowhere else to go. I was hoping I could stay here for awhile, on the down low. For a week, at the most, until I can get comfortably back onto my feet again. Where is she?" Sam automatically knew who it was he was referring to.

"She's inside in the living room, setting up for our game. It's Wednesday, our Monopoly night." Sam was unsure how clued-in Elizabeth was, as far as the current affairs on the news were concerned. They made it a habit of watching the evening news every night, though Elizabeth seemed far more interested reading or doing her studies and homework than to pay proper attention. "I can't say your real name, and I know that. What is it then?" Sam was familiar with protocol, consulting on whether he wanted to go by alias or not.

"Kenneth, just Kenneth Rathers for now," Red told him as Sam stood aside, inviting him in.

"We have a guest bedroom upstairs. Liz just uses it from time to time when she does her homework on the computer. You can stay up there until you feel ready to leave. Of course, just don't remain here idle for too long otherwise Butterball will start paying attention."

"Butterball?" Red repeated gently with a smirk as he pushed his way inside, following Sam down a narrow hallway while he slid the strap of his bag off his shoulder.

He hadn't heard such a term before, and found himself uncertain of whom it was Sam was referring to exactly.

"Liz. It's just a little nickname I've become fond of calling her over the years." Sam cleared his throat. "Butterball, we've got a visitor staying with us for a week or two," he called out to her from where she was in the living room. "He's an old close friend, one that I don't see very often. Don't give him too much trouble."

Red continued following Sam towards the living room, a heart-racing sensation filling him.

As Sam walked into the living room, disappearing out of sight, Red stopped and paused still just by the wall for a second, inhaling in deeply to calm himself. He hadn't planned on seeing her again, particularly not so soon. He hadn't wanted to interfere with her life and the way Sam did things, though he admitted to a certain sense of curiosity to see how she was doing and how much she had changed within the eleven years.

Swinging his bag to the ground and sitting it at his feet, he gained enough courage to enter into the living room, glancing around. His eyes immediately found the girl first, he felt his eyes go wide as saucers, and he had to do a double-check to make sure it was really her.

Within the eleven years of having last come across the girl as he dropped her off to Sam, she had grown and changed so much. No longer a scraggly, crying little thing, she was taller now, full grown.

 _Look how much you've changed over the years,_ he wanted to tell her just at the sight of her. _Sam truly has done splendidly over the years with you, hasn't he, despite his initial fears to be a father to a child?_

Red had been of some assistance in helping Sam raise the girl also, over the years, though they kept the matters clandestine. Ever since he had dropped her off at Sam's, he figured it was the least he could do to help his friend with the unexpected burden he had laid onto him. Monthly, he put money into Sam's bank account to help provide for the girl; Some of the money in which Sam had put into another account for Elizabeth's college funds or to support whichever it was she eventually chose to do in life.

"Butterball, this is my old friend from back in the day when we were in school. His name is Kenneth Rathers," Sam introduced, tearing Red's gaze away from the girl at once. "We were old high school buddies."

He felt his ears burn with embarrassment when the girl turned her attention from deciding which token on the Monopoly game she wanted to play with to look at him.

She couldn't have been more than eighteen years old now, though judging by her looks, she looked maturer, older than what she no doubt was. All he knew, was that for such a young girl she had attractive features. No doubt, when she was older, she'd be a real sight in her mid-twenties

It occurred to him that he was stuck standing frozen in the entryway of the living room, hands slung halfway in his trench coat pockets as he stared at her.

"Kenneth, this is my girl Elizabeth. Liz, I've agreed to allow Kenneth to stay here with us for awhile, if that's all right?"

"Just for a short while," Red forced himself to speak, his throat tightening when the girl gazed up at him again from the board, a slow smile coming across his lips.

Her eyes. Her eyes were still the same somehow as they had been the night he found her. Still so clear and blue.

Elizabeth looked up at her father's friend, this Kenneth Rathers, who was apparently to be staying over for a couple of weeks in the house, then she found she had to do a double-take. It was a man; a man with light brown hair and a bulky black trench coat on. Elizabeth caught sight of his face as he stepped slowly more into the room, the light illuminating all of his features better.

She found she couldn't look away.

He had a dreamy, warm tan complexion, as if he had been holidaying recently in exotic locations, and the most piercing, greenest eyes she had ever seen.

He was, without a doubt, the most attractive man she thought she had ever laid eyes on; more so than any other older men she had seen recently. Immediately, in her mind, she placed him high up there on a pedestal.

She had grown quite fond of Leonardo Di Caprio and a few other male celebrities that were popular on in her gossip magazines, the ones she read with her friends, as well as one boy she was currently crushing on in high school, but her hormone induced sense already desired him above all else. She had always felt that gaining the attention of a man older would be exciting and intense, and it was probably her private reason why she found older men so desirable. Older men were unattainable, so much better than all the boys at her high school, more cultured and well-mannered, therefore that gave them instant appeal.

Suddenly aware that she was practically swooning over her dad's old friend, she quickly glanced away, fiddling with the tokens in the box, afraid her dad or him would notice.

She quickly decided on the hat token while choosing the ship token for her dad- the one he usually often frequented during their games- and she noticed how flustered she felt as she placed both tokens on the starting point on the board.

She pretended to keep busy with shuffling out their banks notes again, playing banker, while conversation resumed between her father and the man that was still standing in the entryway to the living room, and as if she wasn't already infatuated enough just by the older man's mere appearance, every time Kenneth spoke, how his mild voice sounded, slightly deeper and richer as he pronounced certain words, it made her cheeks burn despite them not even talking about anything pertaining to her.

"Hold on for a second," she heard her father say, standing from his chair again. "I've just got to make a quick bathroom run and then we can get this game going. You sit down, Kenneth. Make yourself at home." Sam patted him on the shoulder before he raced down the hallway towards the bathroom.

Red found himself glancing at the girl again before he accepted Sam's invitation, stepping hesitantly more into the living room. He found it difficult to remove his eyes from her as he sunk down into the chair next to the one Sam had previously been sitting in.

He rested both hands on the armrests, plucking at the old fabric with his thumbs as he lifted a leg, crossing it over the other, bouncing his shoe around. Something about being in her presence made him feel on alert and anxious.

In his mind, he was finding it increasingly hard to reassemble and connect the dots; Here she was, the very same girl he had come across as a four year old. Just by merely looking at her, he could see that night play across in his mind so vividly. He could still hear her piercing cries as she screamed, the way the house had reeked of smoke.

Over the eleven or so years, she had grown so much. And, for a young girl her age, she had such a rather... enticing appearance. Her features were in full blossom, beginning to reveal the woman she was now on the edge of becoming. He could just imagine what must happen to her at school. Boys her age must fuss and fawn over her all the time.

Elizabeth was finding it unbearable. Sam had left her alone with this man, and it had fallen unnervingly quiet in the room between them, aside from the hum of the TV in the background. She found it hard to concentrate on counting an equal distribution of the money between herself and her father. She could feel the man's gaze burning into the side of her face all the way from where he sat.

She lifted her eyes to look at him, discovered him watching her with his head tilted, and then she lost her nerve, glancing back down at the notes in front of her quickly on the board. Why was he staring? Then she realized the probable reason why belatedly.

"Oh, you can play too if you want," she offered hesitantly, her cheeks feeling as if they were burning crimson. "I'll just need to sort out your bank money, too."

She looked at him again questioningly, but he noticed the look was fleeting. She felt shy, hence why she couldn't seem to stand looking at him for too long. It was so incredibly endearing of her. "No, thank you," he said quietly, smiling to himself. "I haven't played that game in years."

"Well, you'll pick it up easily? Monopoly isn't exactly the hardest game in the world to play."

He made himself more comfortable by putting his leg down and stretching them both out longways, which he noticed she saw. He found her so unfathomably fascinating.

"I do remember, when I was around your age, I played Monopoly with this girl that I really liked in my grade. Barbara Walton, I believe her name was, and she was... beautiful. Beautiful yet scheming."

He didn't know why he was telling her, but her inviting him to play had made him feel wistful and reminiscent. He caught that he was speaking in low tones, as if he was worried Sam may overhear, as if he was telling her a secret.

"I couldn't understand why at the time but each time I excused myself to go to the bathroom or to get a drink, every time I came back my bank notes seemed to get increasingly smaller and smaller." He laughed to himself, relieved when she peered at him to show him she was still following before glancing away again. "As it turned out, dear Barbara had taken all my money without me knowing. Sneaky Barbara was cheating."

He tongued around the inside of his cheek, adding without thought, "When the game finished and she was high on her victory, one thing led to another and my hand crept higher and higher up her skirt. And guess what of all things came billowing out from the side of her panties?" He completely forgot who he was talking to and just what he was saying, when he went on mirthfully, "Barbara had tucked all my Monopoly playing money away into her panties."

Red wasn't sure what reaction he was expecting to get out of her. Maybe he wanted to hear what her laugh sounded like, but he did not get that in response. What he simply got, was a rather awkward smile from her that showed gleaming, straight teeth. Too late, his mind acknowledged how inappropriate it was to say such a thing to a girl her age, and being as young as she was, an exquisite blush rose on Elizabeth's cheeks.

When her father returned back into the room, Kenneth and him returned to their conversations as Sam sat back into his chair. It became apparent that Sam was not in the right frame-set to play Monopoly with her tonight so Elizabeth began packing away quickly, though she found it yet again hard to concentrate.

Kenneth's story stuck with her and she felt completely blinded by anything else but his presence. She began to fear that her behavior and her body language would give her away, so she started stashing everything back inside the box as quickly and neatly as she could. Hastily, she folded the board back up, tucking it into its box.

"I... I better go to bed now," she whispered, glancing just briefly at the new man in the living room once more before darting out of the room.

Red watched her rush past him with arched brows, worrying for a moment that perhaps he had put his foot in it tremendously by saying the wrong thing in telling her the story of Barbara Walton in high school and the rather delightfully devious and cunning way she had tricked him whilst playing Monopoly. He glanced at Sam, who waved a hand in the air, dismissing the girl's behavior.

"Don't worry about her. I think she's just in a huff because we didn't play Monopoly tonight like usual."

 **So this was the 1st chapter. English is not my usual language and I am not sure if this will be of interest, but I would very much like to know. Please do be kind on me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. I want to send my gratitude to each and every one of you. I didn't expect such a welcoming, but your kind words encourage me to continue. Thank you so much! Hope this chapter is all right.**

 **Also, my apologies for any errors. I am practicing writing in English so I am hoping it is passable.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Elizabeth picked a red pencil out from in her pencil case, using it to start drawing the faint outline of a heart onto the corner of her textbook. She flexed her fingers over the pencil as she hunched over the desk, about to write in a finishing K.R into the middle of the outline when she heard it.

"Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth's teachers sharp voice brought her out of her distraction, her eyes snapping up to meet his. She sat up straighter in her chair when she noticed every single eye in the classroom was on her. Everyone was watching her because of him and her face began burning.

She cleared her throat hoarsely, before answering, "Yes, sir?"

"It is so nice of you to finally rejoin us." The teacher smiled as laughter rang out around her from her classmates.

Her mouth went dry as her eyes darted around the room again nervously, taking in all the students around her. Her History teacher always tended to do this to her; It felt often that he had a mission to make her life as much of a personal hell as possible. He had tended to single her out in every class she had with him, trying to pick her to talk in front of everyone or answer a question on the current subjects they were learning. It made her classes with him unbearable.

"Now that I seem to have your undivided attention again, shall I continue with the lesson?" the teacher went on.

Elizabeth nodded silently, peering at her fellow classmates again self-consciously. She only returned to feeling comfortable again once he had resumed with what he was talking about for the day's lesson, and to her relief, most students turned back in their chairs around to focus on him one by one.

She could have sworn her history teacher gained sordid enjoyment out of tormenting her in class. The bell rang from the ceiling signalling end of day, just in time. Hurriedly, Elizabeth rose up from her chair, gathering her belongings and tucking her chair in before she darted out of the room, squeezing past the students in the corridors, her head hung low and her dark hair covering the sides of her face.

What had happened in her last class left residual feelings of anxiety within her as Elizabeth started the walk towards home. How embarrassing it was that she had zoned out, so wrapped up in her own world, consumed by thoughts of the new visitor that would be a guest staying at the house for over a week. Usually Elizabeth did not let herself become so distracted.

Once she got into the yard to the house, she paused by the doorway, kicking off her pair of shoes. Then she bent down, holding them between two fingers as she opened the door with her other available hand, turning the knob and once opened, using her hip to push her way inside completely. She felt giddy, which was an unusual way to feel in comparison to how she felt normally once arriving home from school.

It was the new man that she knew would be in the house that was the reason for her feeling as she was. Partly, she blamed him for causing her disruptions in class.

Ever since the man first had walked through the front door last night, she hadn't been able to free him from her mind. Even sleeping last night in bed had proved difficult for her, as she had been replaying their conversations and the story he had told her while her father was not in the room through her mind. Already, thinking of him, of his face, the way his voice had sounded, it caused such strange havoc within her.

It was new. Nothing before had ever drawn such a strong reaction out of her than what she had felt for that man after meeting him last night, a stranger.

No boys at school seemed to have this effect on her. Certainly not where it had exacerbated to a point where she was thinking of them troublesomely and obsessively in the middle of class, interfering with her concentration and her ability to listen.

Her mouth still feeling dry from what had happened in class, she went into the kitchen with the intent of getting a drink of water. On the way of approaching the kitchen, she thought she smelled the acrid and lingering stench of cigarette smoke inside the house.

She sat her school bag on the ground, dropping her shoes carelessly, and laid her textbooks down on the counter, her heart dropping in dismay when she wondered where the cigarettes had come from. Her father had promised her he would kick the habit- and he had done so successfully for a full three months.

Now, however, she recognized that stale stench in the air and she felt betrayed by her own father, who had sworn on his very own daughter's life to never touch a single smoke again.

She heard footsteps descending the stairs and assumed it was her father.

"Dad, you swore on my very own life that you would-" The breath left her lungs and she stopped apprehensively mid-sentence when she raised her eyes to the man's face that had entered the kitchen.

For barely a second she was able to hold his gaze. Her dad's friend Kenneth was standing frozen in the entryway to the kitchen, a burning cigarette hanging between his lips. Her heart rate started to increase at the very man who had brutally occupied her thoughts all day. Lifting her eyes again, she observed him a moment longer, then she lost her nerve.

"Hello, Lizzy." The way he said it seemed to roll off his tongue effortlessly, which caused a wave of emotion through her. No one had bothered to call her Lizzy before. Her father liked calling her Butterball, the ridiculous nickname she had received as a little girl. Him calling her Lizzy sounded so personal, so private and special, because no one had ever called her that before.

His piercing green eyes were heavy-lidded, as if he had only just woken from a long nap. His light brown hair was all over the place, his clothes crumpled. It was strange seeing as it was already just past three thirty in the afternoon- or so it had been when she had last recently looked. He was wearing light grey trousers with a long-sleeved, white button-up dress shirt that was neatly tucked into them; the first few buttons and the collar loosened enough around his neck that when she looked, she could see wiry hairs on his warm, tan chest. She immediately averted her eyes from the personal sight.

"I... I'm sorry. I thought you were my Dad." Nerves were gloriously taking hold, her legs beginning to shake. "It's just that my dad-"

"- He's not home. He had a doctor's appointment." His voice drifted over her pleasantly; a mild and soft undertone. She met his gaze, finding him staring at her with his head tilted as he lifted a hand, catching the streaming cigarette between his forefinger and middle finger. When he brought it out from between his parted lips, Elizabeth had to avert his eyes once again as she observed the corner of his upper lip twitching. "Hadn't Sam told you where he would be?"

"No, he... he hadn't told me that actually." She felt so silly, the way she was being. She couldn't even look the man directly in the eyes without feeling a sense of self-consciousness. "Why would he feel the need to go to the doctors?"

She heard the faint hiss of an inhalation from him as he drew in another hit of his cigarette. "I'm not so sure of the answer to that question myself."

She strove for something to say; something that would make her appear as less than a foolish and unintelligent, infatuated girl. "So you and my father were close buddies in high school?"

"Yes, that's right. Exactly as Sam told the story." On this matter he did not seem particularly verbose, which disappointed her. She would have liked to learn more about him other than what her father had explained to her last night. "How old have you reached now? I don't believe Sam mentioned how old you were?"

Elizabeth breathed out slowly in relief, pleased he had taken initiative to start asking her questions. She had began to feel helplessly lost with what to say next. She had never been good with small talk. "Oh, I... I'm going to be eighteen very soon in April."

"Eighteen. Eighteen's a wonderful age."

"Yeah..." She glanced away again, striving desperately for something else to say to keep the conversation flowing naturally. "So Kenneth, what is it exactly that you do for a living? I don't think my father said anything about that?"

"Finances," he replied after a short pause. "I'm in... accounting." Needless to say, he could not tell her the full story.

"God, poor you," Elizabeth laughed out loud before she could stop herself. "I hate Math. _Anything_ to do with Math." She felt her cheeks inflame with embarrassment at her no doubt seemingly nonsensical rambling. "I'd hate to work in finances."

She just wanted most of all to demonstrate that she was perfectly capable of maintaining an adult conversation, especially with _him_.

To both her relief and disappointment, she heard the sound of the front door opening and shutting. Sam had arrived back home, no longer leaving her alone in this man's presence. Feeling the dire need to leave, she turned away with effort, gathering her textbooks again into her arms as she brushed past him to exit the kitchen, wanting to hide herself out of sight.

Red watched her go curiously, taking in another drag of his cigarette.

Her behavior did not seem to cease fascinating him. She acted so shy around him, so uncertain. She couldn't even so much as look him in the eye, like she was a terrified rabbit and him a hound-dog on the scent. It was so terribly endearing of her. He heard her speak to her father in the hallway- in much confident, braver tones than the ones she had used for him- then as Sam entered the kitchen, he brought his gaze to him, removing his cigarette from his mouth.

Sam pressed a finger to his lips, gesturing out into the hallway, anxious about Elizabeth overhearing. He did not start speaking until they were a mere ten inches away from one another.

"How did it go, Sam? With your appointment?"

With both their backs turned from the entryway into the kitchen, Red felt the steady weight of a stare on his back. There was only one other person left in the house which left Lizzy. He turned to look behind his shoulder. From the angle he was positioned in diagonally from the entryway, he could see her standing quietly with her textbooks tucked in deep to her chest as she attempted to eavesdrop on them, her shoulder pressed into the wall as she hid. The instant his eyes landed on hers, she lowered her blue eyes, glancing down at the floor hastily.

"They ran all the tests they could as usual, but... nothing can be told as yet."

He had to suppress the urge to smile when he nodded at Sam once in understanding before swiveling his eyes back to where Lizzy stood. Just as before, she avoided his gaze. This time she looked in the opposite direction, hiding her face from sight. He wondered if she was playing a coy and subtle game of flirting where she looked at him, then as he looked at her, she deliberately looked away although the notion of the young woman ever being interested in him seemed far fetched.

She was beautiful, and he found it difficult not to separate her from that same little needy girl he had rescued from the house fire. Any feelings or appreciative observations he felt about her appearance was dirty of him and highly inappropriate. He was more than half her age; Thirty-eight years old, to be exact. No doubt, in her eyes, she already thought and considered him an old, useless man.

"I suppose I won't know anything until they call me in for the results next week. For Butterball's sake, I hope it turns out okay."

Yes. Red hoped that, for Lizzy's sake, it would turn out okay also.

 _Please do be kind on me. The story may be slow at first but it will pick up soon. Again, thank you. It is much appreciated and your words offer me inspiration to keep writing with this. I am also thankful that some of you agree with the portrayal of Elizabeth so far. I see her as very guarded and reserved until she knows someone properly- so she'll open up more once they spend more time in each other's company. My apologies for any mistakes again._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Merci! Thank you for inspiring me and for your kind words. I am so excited to be writing a story that I keep posting chapter so quickly no doubt :P**_

 _ **Chapter 3**_

Dinner time in the Milhoan household was normally an uneventful one, yet that evening it was different.

For once, it was not just Elizabeth and her father, sharing a quiet and content silence as they ate; the noises of scraping forks and knives being the only sound in the room. No, they had another person at the dinner table tonight for once, a new guest, and that evening, it was unusually louder and boisterous with more easy-going conversation equally spread around the table.

Before dinner, Sam had suggested they all spend a moment in silence while he said Grace, something that happened between Elizabeth and her father naturally before they began to eat their dinner. Just because there was a new visitor at the table this evening, it didn't mean that they were just going to forgo their normal routine. And, if Elizabeth had to be honest, it would have felt like sacrilege if they had.

Red was not by any means of the word a religious person. He neither considered himself nonreligious either, however.

He believed in God and repenting for sins committed, and whatnot, yet over the past eight years, he had committed so many countless sins that usually he preferred to turn a blind eye to it most of the time. No doubt, in God's eyes, the sins he had committed were unforgivable. But he could not be rude and disrupt the natural patterns set in Sam's way of doing things, so he kept quiet and said not a word when Sam suggested they spend a quiet moment saying Grace before tucking into the meal.

He believed, with all his heart, that there was no such thing as a salvation for him. Little more did he believe there was such a chance for redemption.

Easily falling into their normal habit, Elizabeth reached over to clasp hands with her father; their usual way of doing it. Seated in the chair opposite her, was Kenneth, and she hesitated as he held out a bigger, much more masculine hand towards her. Finally, she let her hand rest in his. She hardly heard a single word her father was saying.

Elizabeth felt too preoccupied with how it felt to have her hand resting in his. She feared her fingers were shaking, that her palm had grown increasingly sweaty as it rested against his and that, somehow, he would take notice. In that second, she did not understand how people could develop infatuations on someone or ridiculous crushes and not have the object of their affection finding out. How could someone possibly act normal around that person? How could they even function properly?

Prayer concluded and Elizabeth felt she could breathe much easier once they all broke apart, moving their hands away to pick up their silverware. As a low hum of companionable chatter broke out between her father and his friend, Elizabeth remained silent, managing to have avoided looking at the man sitting across from her for the rest of the night.

That night, Elizabeth found it difficult to fall asleep again, just as it had been for her the night before.

Her mind was far too restless, making it hard for her to fall asleep. She was finding it hard to focus on nothing else but the ringing peaceful silence in her room, the dark room and ceiling.

She sighed loudly, flipping over onto her back again with a groan.

She could not believe how ridiculous she was being. _If only Kenneth knew just what a profound affect he was having on her..._

She could not seem to get him out of her brain, no matter how many times she tried to do so in blocking him out mentally. Surely there had to be something deeply wrong to be feeling this way about someone so far out of her league and so unattainable. Realistically, nothing should happen between them while he was there, staying in the house. It couldn't, and for obvious reasons, Elizabeth felt absolutely certain that he did not- and would not ever- reciprocate any part of her childish and instantaneous infatuation.

For one thing, she was mostly likely just a child in his view. He probably even had a wife already, or was in a committed relationship with a woman his own age. He even possibly had a daughter her age, therefore automatically making her repugnant to him by precondition.

She didn't even know him realistically speaking. The only tidbits of information she knew about him, was that his name was Kenneth Rathers, he worked in finance and accounting, and that he has always been a close friend of Sam's. And that was where it ended. She did not know where he came from, where he was born, or his marital status. Anything significant about him was currently unknown to her.

She shouldn't be so taken with a man she didn't know. While he was undoubtedly handsome in physical appearance, that often did not mean he also came with a quality heart and kindness to go along with those looks.

Unfortunately, her hormone induced brain wasn't cooperating with her. He would be leaving the house and would be gone in a few more weeks time, and then, hopefully, she would move past it and forget all about the man that wouldn't seem to stop invading her brain with every minute of the hour.

But her young mind told her that perhaps this was love. How else could it explain the great deal of emotions she already felt for the man? Nothing to such this extent had happened to her before which is why she put her trust in it.

While she became well aware that whatever notions she had of him ever reciprocating were pure fantasy, it felt like love to her. Isn't that what they liked to preach in romance novels? That love was instantaneous and at first sight? It felt like the way love must feel, if there was even such a thing as being possible to love a man while not knowing barely anything about him.

Fed up with simply laying in bed when sleep kept evading her, she sat up, getting out of bed. She needed to do something to distract herself, anything to make her feel more sleepy so that her brain would properly switch off for the night. She switched on the lamp on her beside table. It was already past eleven at night and she had to get up early to walk to school tomorrow.

She opened her bedroom door, descending down the steps so that she could go into the kitchen. The house was quiet at this time of the night with only the sound of the clock in the hallway ticking. As she went towards the kitchen, she thought she heard the doors of the cupboards being opened then shut frantically.

Red found himself unable to sleep tonight.

He sneaked back down to the quiet dark kitchen, raiding the refrigerator, hoping to find something substantial enough to his high standards to drink. A nice bottle of mature blend scotch or a bottle of Cinsaut, enough to have a decent decadent glass full.

Back in the day, before everything had happened, Sam and him had been known to both be enthusiastic drinkers, simply because it was a common rite of passage from youth into adulthood. Much to his dismay, as he peered inside the fridge at all the minimal contents inside that consisted of foods and butter, he found no secret bottles of alcohol stashed anywhere.

He was accustomed now to having a few glasses of wine, scotch, or basically any single liquor he was able to find as a relaxing completion of the night before he went to bed. But apparently with the way in which Sam now lived, the likelihood of getting to do that was next to nil. His old friend had obviously changed his ways dramatically over the years after Lizzy, yet Red still felt mildly skeptical. Surely Sam had to be hiding some hard liquor somewhere inside the house, perhaps somewhere not within Lizzy's sight or hands-reach?

He heard the noise just as he doubled back, beginning to search through all the kitchen cupboards despite of how dark it was. Either Sam or Lizzy were descending down the stairs. He could hardly find it within himself to care if he had woken them.

As Elizabeth slowly padded into the kitchen, she saw the shadowed silhouette of a man as he fussed around with opening their kitchen cupboards. They were obviously searching for something, though she was unsure what. Until she heard that distinctive voice.

"Would you happen to have any idea on earth of just whereabouts it is that Sam hides his secret stash of hard liquor?"

She was momentarily frightened until she connected the voice to the man it had belonged to in her mind. Inside, she felt tingling, just by the sound of his voice alone. "If you think you are going to find any alcohol in this house, then you're going to be disappointed," she explained breathlessly. "My dad stopped bringing alcohol into the house ever since I turned around eight years old, I think."

"Hmm, its as much as I thought. Can't sleep?"

"No. I have to be up by seven thirty tomorrow because I have school and yet, here I am, still wide awake and unable to sleep." Somehow it was easier to talk to him when he was immersed in shade and she couldn't see him properly. It made her feel braver, more confident. "Obviously you can't either, I take it?"

"No, unfortunately I can't myself. Normally I require a nightcap of something strong and bitter but obviously that cannot be done here if Sam doesn't have any liquor stashed away." His tone was brusque. "Perhaps I'll have to resort to old medieval means instead." Elizabeth wasn't completely sure she understood what he was saying to her, but she pretended she did with a nod, regardless of whether he could see her properly in the dark kitchen or not. All she was aware of, was that she definitely could not see him all that well. "You know, they say a good cure to insomnia and a restless night is to find some nifty and creative way to expend some of the excess energy from within."

"Oh?" she said, a nervous laugh escaping her. "And what do you recommend as a way to expend some of my excess energy?"

He started feeling a little more heated as he considered asking his next question, feeling as though he were years younger again and more like a boy who was anxious to ask his date for a dance. Was it appropriate? Would it be crossing an invisible line in the sand that Sam would not be too pleased about?

"How about a dance?" Red wasn't sure what it was he was trying to do with her, but he knew Sam would not appreciate what he was doing nevertheless.

Elizabeth's heart felt as though it had stopped functioning as she turned to try to look at him head on, inspecting him anxiously with her eyes when she could discern just the faintest outline of his facial features. She was not sure whether Kenneth was just joking with her to try and get a laugh out of her or whether he was being sincere. But when he stepped towards her to stand in front of her she saw him better in the shadows obscuring the kitchen. Noticing the dark, solemn look in his green eyes as he gave her a small, tight-lipped smile, it occurred to her that it was mostly the latter. He was being deadly serious and trepidation filled her.

She hadn't danced much with anyone over the years. In fact, dancing with a partner was not something she was at all familiar with. She feared she would come across as foolish and ungraceful if she had agreed to it.

"I...I don't know if that would be such a smart idea," she admitted hesitantly with another short laugh. "I haven't even danced with anyone before. I'm not even totally sure I know how to. I'll just end up making a fool of myself."

"You'll be a quick study, I'm sure. It's quite simple and, if needed, I can easily lead you?"

He was safe. He was a good man. He knew her father and her father was extremely selective on whom he considered to be his friends. If Sam considered him one of his closest friends, then what reason did she have not to let her walls come sliding down and trust him, even at the expense of making a laughing stock out of herself?

He stepped back a few steps to where the widest part of the kitchen was with the most space, offering out an outstretched hand. Elizabeth knew it was bound to be embarrassing for her and awkward, but she moved towards him obediently.

"Okay, fair enough." She couldn't actually believe she was agreeing to dancing with him, particularly at eleven thirty at night, of all times. "I bet I'll be really bad at this. Consider yourself warned though."

Facing one another and forming into what she presumed was the regular and correct dancing position, she brought out her hand reluctantly in which Kenneth intertwined his fingers through hers. His eyes met and held hers as their palms pressed together before their fingers interlocked and fit between the gaps; his fingers so much longer than hers that they extended just past her knuckles.

She felt lost and unsure of what to do, and she laughed again at her own sheer awkwardness. Standing so close the way they were, she couldn't help noticing he was just only barely four inches or so taller than her.

"You'll need to put your other hand on my shoulder, Lizzy."

She was thankful for his guidance, as she would have felt lost otherwise. It reassured her when his tone did not sound judgmental over her inexperience with dancing; His low voice had sounded understanding.

She hesitated a moment before lifting her arm, pressing her hand down into the curve of his shoulder blade as he lowered his arm from her side to rest his hand just above her hipbone. Their closeness and the positions of their bodies flustered her all of a sudden, and she found peering into his eyes if not more difficult than she usually did.

She had never stood so close to a man before, and particularly not one she had found herself attracted to so much.

"We'll start on this foot," he said, bending his knee to nudge which one he meant.

She got confused a few times, stepping in the wrong direction as the front of her clothes rustled up against his in the dark kitchen, but with a sharp breath in, she forced her tense muscles to loosen and relax. It took awhile, but soon her mind was blank of any self-conscious thought or feeling and it turned into something she found herself enjoying.

She discovered that Kenneth was a remarkable dancer, if not an even better dancing partner. He did not seem to judge her outwardly when she made a misstep. In fact, he barely even went to comment on it. Though his face was blank of any outwards expression as he peered deeply into her eyes, she presumed he was enjoying himself just as much as she was.

Red never once in his wildest dreams thought he would be standing here now, dancing with the little girl he had managed to save from the fire over eleven years ago.

She was so much... _more_ than he expected, and he found himself entranced with how quite careless and carefree she became after each mistake she made or each time she accidentally ended up stepping on his toes. She did not seem like a woman who had experienced a rather traumatic event during her childhood years, yet at the same time, she had. There were silent moments there where she expressed a sort of vulnerability and reservedness. But despite all that evidently she had managed to successfully rise above it and he envied her for it.

Underneath his hand he felt the firm, taut skin above her hip through the polyester of her short-sleeved pajama shirt. The fabric was thin and light enough that he thought he could feel the warmth of her skin radiating through it. When she clenched her eyes shut to turn up her head to laugh, he allowed himself to take her distraction to his advantage in permitting his eyes to roam lower.

The shirt was not immodest or plunging, yet he found her pale, elongated throat and her collarbone one of her most alluring features, a near second to her eyes and her smile. If he hadn't been in total control of himself and the situation, he may have been tempted enough to dip his head, to kiss her neck and to trail his kisses up and over her chin, ravishing her in the dark of the kitchen.

It was an impulse so overwhelming and indecent that it struck him like a hard slap across the face.

He shouldn't be thinking in such a way, he reminded himself as he mindfully raised his eyes to her face again. Such lewd thoughts should not be made towards a young woman like her, especially given her age. He knew beyond any level of doubt that Lizzy had no such impulses or feelings towards him in response. No doubt, she would consider him a disgusting old man if he had ever admitted to such things.

It was just the mere fact that he hadn't gotten laid in quite some time that was contributing to it. He was only viewing her in a sexual manner due to the fact that he hadn't been with a woman in over a year, and it was lonely. Lonely and frustrating.

He was merely projecting his sexual fantasies onto Sam's adopted daughter. It did not mean what he thought he wanted to do with her was something he actually would follow through and do to her. Thinking was one thing, while actively doing was an entirely other. He hadn't been in the proper company of an attractive woman in a year, it had nothing to do with the way he had perceived Lizzy herself now that she had grown. Or so he tried hard to convince himself.

She spoke and he was thankful he had something to properly take his mind off his conflicted thoughts about her. "For an old man, you're pretty quick and light on your toes."

"Ouch," he said briskly, wincing in offense. He had become increasingly sensitive about his age over the years, though he could not tell if she was making a joke. "You don't truly consider thirty-eight old, do you now, Lizzy?" He could not tell if she was teasing him.

Lizzy seemed to consider, biting down on her bottom lip with her front teeth. "Maybe not," she answered slowly after a moment, unknowingly both easing and reassuring his mind. "But it _is_ pretty old, definitely in comparison to me."

 _Of course_ it was. And that was why everything about what he was doing with her was so inherently wrong.

"I'm so, so _terribly_ sorry," he said in disgust before he could stop himself, his throat tightening as though an invisible hand had shot out to grip over it, clenching down onto his oesophagus to the point where speaking became virtually painful. "I made such a mistake, asking to dance with you."

His tone caught Elizabeth off-guard and she felt her mouth hang open in confusion when he pried his hand out of hers, almost as if her skin had suddenly been capable of burning him; his other hand dropping from its position just slightly above her hip as he stepped back two paces. Now that he had stepped back, he had fallen back into the cover of the shadows.

"Your _sorry_?" she repeated, searching for him in the dimly lit darkness surrounding her helplessly. "Kenneth?"

Next thing she heard, was his footsteps as he ascended up the stairs to the guest bedroom hurriedly.

 ** _Here is another chapter. Thank you so much for inspiring me to write more, it is so nice to be so welcomed in, especially when I have never written Blacklist fan fiction before. Nervous about this one and I do hope my writing is correct English in most places. I also understand it isn't true to the show, but hopefully will still remain true to the characters and their traits._**


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to the moon and back for such kindness. I hope this chapter finds you some enjoyment. As usual, mistakes are mine and I'm sorry for them.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

She didn't know what she had done wrong but obviously she had done something.

Kenneth's aloof behavior last night made Elizabeth feel reluctant to head downstairs to make some breakfast before school out of fear he would already be awake. She found she could not bare the thought of having to see him this morning, particularly after what had happened last night. She felt sick with a hammering heart just by the thought of having to face seeing him.

She couldn't fathom what had happened last night, or just what his reasons were behind it.

No matter how many times she tried to search for a logical reason in her mind that would explain his sudden change of behavior while they had danced, she could not find any whatsoever.

She did suspect that maybe she had offended him, that she had wounded some fragile, precious manly pride, in joking about his age and making a comment about it. If so, she hadn't expected him to take it so solemnly. In truth, Elizabeth did not feel the age of thirty-eight was anywhere near what she personally considered as old. Old, to her, was a person in their eighties or nineties.

She had always believed, perhaps naively, that adults were different, that they communicated far differently than what other kids her age did. They had completely different codes and ways of communication and were less likely to play mind-games. Adults were more direct and if they were bothered by something, they said it straightaway with complete honesty and maturity. Or so she had blindly assumed.

If she _had_ in fact injured his ego, he could have simply been straightforward and told her that last night so that she could get the chance to clarify her beliefs on age straight to his face, therefore automatically rectifying any beef he felt he had with her due to her half-serious comment.

All Elizabeth knew was that she didn't feel like apologizing to him. She wasn't going to apologize when she didn't even know what it was that she was apologizing for in the first place.

When Red woke at six in the morning, he felt immediately wide-awake and alert. His sleeping patterns over the years had become so vastly unpredictable and disordered. He knew that now that he was awake, he had no hope in hell of falling back to sleep again so he didn't bother trying.

It would have only been a waste of his time, and a time-waster, he was not. Instead, he got up, making the bed as neatly as possible. Then he got changed into a pair of jeans and a blue business shirt, taking his time in buttoning it up. After tucking the tail of his shirt neatly into his jeans, he sat, tying up his shoe laces before sliding his silver Rolex watch on over the wrist of his left hand. After that habitual little regimen was done, he lifted a hand to comb his fingers through his hair, then stood.

To make himself feel more energetic and less foggy-brained, he trod downstairs to the kitchen to make a hot cup of coffee. No one was awake at this hour, or so it had seemed. The house was still and serene; the only sounds to be heard were the birds chirping from outside pleasantly and the light pitter pattering of rain on the roof.

No doubt his old friend Sam was still fast asleep in his room. As for Lizzy, well... he chose deliberately not to mull on anything concerning her from this point onward.

He was unsatisfied with the brand of coffee Sam had in the canister; It was cheap and generic, with a bland taste. Maxwell House. As good as the last drop, the slogan preached on the back of the can. When he stirred in his milk and sipped at it curiously, he hummed in distaste, judging otherwise.

 _As good as the last drop, his ass_.

"I'd rather drink an entire jug of lighter fluid," he muttered under his breath to himself, cringing with appall at the aftertaste.

He much preferred Brazilian coffee, if he had to be truthful. With their coffee and the way they blended it with such obvious love and care so that it tasted so consistently smooth, so robust and bursting with rich flavor, Maxwell House coffee lacked in comparison. But alas, there were some things that you just had to grin and bare.

Sam had done him a great kindness in allowing him to stay at his house for a good week or two. It was not his place to be so picky.

Making do with what he had to, Red pulled back a chair at the kitchen table, sitting down with a heavy sigh as he sat the mug of coffee next to his elbow. He brought a hand up to rub the side of his face with his fingers as he turned the mug around to see what the graphic on the mug was. The picture was faded and scratched by now, but he could still make out its impression. Best daughter in the world, it read. He had a fair idea on just whom the mug belonged to, and just his luck, it was Lizzy's.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not seem to get past the sheer shame of what had happened last evening with her. He had always suspected the type of man that he was- a terrible, terrible disgrace of a man- and that did not ring any truer for him than it did now. The way he had thought about Lizzy just by merely dancing with her, the way it felt to hold his hand up against her hip... If Sam became aware, Red had no doubts whatsoever in his mind that his friend would sodomize him with a stick.

But he had made a firm vow to himself that from this point forward, he would be mindful to keep his distance. There would be no more asking her to share a dance with him, no more... anything. He would be respectful and keep his distance. He would refrain from asking her questions to learn more about her now that she had grown into the young woman she was now becoming. It was only fair, to both Sam and to her, that he did.

The only feasible solution he found for outgrowing these impractical feelings he had felt for her was to ignore her as much as humanly possible, even if it meant being hugely unpleasant to her and standoffish. These feelings, these sudden and instant, lewd and overtly sexual thoughts... they simply could not go on.

Footsteps encroached into the kitchen, disrupting the silent splendor he had been experiencing.

He felt his pulse scatter as he sat up straighter with his back against the chair, keeping his head down and his eyes fixed resolutely on the brown liquid in the mug as either Lizzy or Sam entered the kitchen. For some reason he was unaware of, he immediately suspected it was Lizzy that was now awake. And, as it turned out, his guess had been so unfortunately correct.

"Morning," she muttered in a careless way, as if she did not recall the previous evenings events where in which they had danced together.

"Yes, good morning to you too, Lizzy," he forced himself to say stiffly, with not quite having the heart to be unnecessarily rude despite knowing it would have made it easier for himself in the long run. He huffed quietly at himself for his lack of willpower as he moved the muscles of his lower jaw around, side to side.

He had feared that he had been so transparent with her last night, that the way he was thinking about her had been so palpable that she could somehow sense it off him like a ghastly odor that refused to go away.

Apparently he had stressed over nothing because, as he forced himself to turn his head to look at her, she appeared just as careless and unfussed as her tone had implied. He had been working himself up so hard to disregard her mere presence in the room and yet, just like that, like moths to a flame, his gaze was instantly drawn to her.

She was already dressed and ready for the day, wearing tight denim jeans, Converse sneakers, and a pretty ruffled blue blouse. It shamed him that he took an instinctive evaluation of how tight and well the light blue denim jeans seemed to fit to the shape of her ample derriere.

"Damn it." He stared at the back of her head, her hair, as she looked out through the curtains. "It's raining outside and I'm supposed to walk."

Before he even realized it he was speaking, immediately foiling his plans to give the girl a wide berth. "Seeing as I really have nothing better to do with my time this morning, I could always give you a lift to school if you'd like?"

When Elizabeth had gotten inside the front yard after school yesterday, she hadn't seen another car outside in their driveway. She brought her eyes away from the window with hesitance, her face seeming to redden as she made herself look back at him. "Do you even drive? I'm pretty sure I haven't seen your car parked outside in the driveway?"

"I haven't driven a car in years," he admitted, eager to do it now, though he knew, deep down inside, that the idea of spending time alone with Lizzy was partly a main contributing factor to that. So much for being mindful to keep a respectful distance. "But surely it couldn't be that hard to pick up again. I'm assuming its similar to drawing. You just keep the car between the lines at all times."

The sound of her laughter made his heart surge and he clenched his eyes shut tight, scolding himself as he brought the rim of his mug up to his lips. He really needed to get a firm grasp on himself.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure driving a car isn't as simple as that."

Elizabeth felt various emotions overtake her as she stared at the back of Kenneth's head from where he sat at the kitchen table. It was a small favor, but a kind one. She had feared that somehow she had done something wrong last night, something to turn him off after he had left so abruptly. But, with the way he was acting now, apparently she had only just been paranoid. He wasn't avoiding her at the very least, while sending her confusing adult mixed messages. But it became discernible to her that he was avoiding looking at her.

"Thank you, though; I'd really appreciate it if you could."

"You are more than welcome, Lizzy." He did not turn his head or lift it to look at her again and she noticed he seemed overly preoccupied with the cup he was holding between his hands suddenly. She knew what that cup was herself; Sam had given her it on her twelfth birthday, though she had not used it for hot drinks in quite some time. "Just go gather your things and then we'll leave so that you can make it to school on time."

"You don't know how much it would mean to me. I...I just don't exactly want to be soaking wet by the time I get to my first class."

Red had been halfway through swallowing down a mouthful of his coffee as she said the harmless, yet in his eyes, daringly provocative words.

The liquid went down the wrong way through what he was assuming was his windpipe, and he coughed and spluttered uncouthly. He felt his skin burn up in temperature, as though he were a man-made furnace, when he heard her move behind him.

She started patting him around his back with her hand in a soothing way, enough that he could feel the warmth of her hand through the cotton of his shirt, alternating between light thumps with the heel of her hand, then in the very next second some caressing rubs; as one does to offer their assistance when someone appears to be choking. He hadn't felt more embarrassed in his entire life than he had in that moment. How he was acting in front of her, it was absolutely ludicrous.

"Thank you, Lizzy, for your concern but I really am fine," he choked out desperately, wanting her to stop touching him with her hand.

It felt too good, too... relaxing to the point where she was starting to have affect in other places of his body. It was only a mere miracle that the lower half of his body was concealed under the table. His pants had began to feel horrendously restrictive. Jiggling his knees beneath the table and knocking them together did nothing to assuage it.

When she left the room and he heard her stomp up the stairs hurriedly to gather her things, he hung his head, hitting his forehead against the hard wood of the table repetitively until the feelings went away. The stinging sensation in the center of his forehead each time he battered it against the hard pine wood distracted him and began to make him forget. By the time Lizzy had returned downstairs to the kitchen holding her textbooks behind her curled arms, only then did he feel enough normalcy and strength to attempt to stand.

"Oh, don't forget. Here's dad's keys." Thinking quick, he caught them as she chucked them to him and as they went out the front door, Red paused by her father's rusting red old Ford Pontiac in the slick and wet driveway, his fingers slipping every time he tried to use the key to unlock it.

His hands were sweaty and it was something he did not like.

 _And here's another chapter. Thank you so much for being so kind, it really humbles me. I am still nervous about this as I don't know if its right to write it but I do hope you like. :D_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Let it be said that I cannot commend your father Sam's taste in the brand of pre-ground coffee that he selects," was the first comment that tore out of Kenneth's mouth as they climbed into the car. "Frankly, I haven't put something in my mouth that tasted that vile since in the Summer of 1985, where Shelly Smith held me captive in the backseat of her Volvo with all those empty Mars bar wrappers piled messily on her dashboard."

Red grimaced at the words that had left him so easily and thoughtlessly. He did not enjoy this feeling at all; This sudden earth-shattering feeling of claustrophobia that had now taken over him simply by being confined in a car with her. Usually he was not so shoddy in the company of the opposite sex; He generally acted calm and confident and at ease to say what he wanted, yet this was obviously not the same set of circumstances.

He had a tendency to chatter excessively when he was nervous, and he couldn't remember another time in his life where he had felt so cripplingly nervous as he had now.

"Who's Shelly Smith?" Elizabeth asked slowly and when he managed to find some piece of inner strength to look at her, he saw that her brows had furrowed in confusion.

"For the sake of sparing you from oversharing, I'll simply say that Shelly Smith was a girl in college and I'll leave it at that."

He was speaking in low and rapid undertones, and Elizabeth could not help gaining the impression that he was nervous for some reason to be alone in the car with her. He sat for a moment after they had both buckled up, slotting the key into the ignition. She watched as he took a few seconds to rub his hands back and forth over his jean-clad thighs as if he was mentally preparing himself to grip and handle the steering wheel, a shaky exhale leaving his mouth.

"If you thought the coffee tasted that bad, then why physically force yourself to drink it?"

"Because, believe it or not, Lizzy, I'm one of those males that needs their solid dose of caffeine of a morning to function properly. If not and without it, I turn into a bumbling, jumbling mess." Who was he kidding?

They had only been in the car in span of less than a five minute time-frame and already, he was exactly that. A bumbling, jumbling mess in front of her. _Good heavens, it was insufferable on him already._

He looked at her a moment more with a somewhat sheepish and apologetic, tight-lipped smile, before he finally moved into action, switching the car on and into reverse. The moment he tore his eyes away from her to look out the back window as he started reversing the car out of the driveway and onto the road, Elizabeth felt her body sag in the seat in immense relief. His eyes and every time he so much as looked at her, it caused her heart to pick up pace.

This was not due to the color, the vivid green hue although they were wondrous, she thought. But it was for the simple fact that he was looking at her. That combined with the intensity in them and his entire physical presence, it gave her a rush unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

It just felt so nice to have an older man look at her, to really take her in and appear as though he truly was interested in who she was, or that he enjoyed spending time with her, that he had offered to take her to school even. It was so nice to have someone's attention and to be treated as basically how a young adult would be treated, which he demonstrated as much with his rambling stories.

He treated her with no kid gloves on. For once in her life, she felt as though she was actually someone's equal, that she was on the same wavelength as someone. Whether it was actually that way in reality or not, Elizabeth did not know.

All she knew was that it felt that way, that someone was taking her seriously for once. Or perhaps it was her secret infatuation with him that made her so blinded and biased?

"So are you enjoying school?" Red forced himself to ask in order to break the uneasy silence now that they were sailing down the road. There were no street signs that told him what the speed limit was in this particular neighboring area where Lizzy and Sam lived, so he was making an estimated guess.

"Not really. Can anyone honestly say that they enjoy school?" She didn't even know why he was bothering to ask her about school, of all things. Maybe he was just interested because it had been awhile since he had been part of the whole academic system himself?

A light turned red ahead of them and he stomped down on the breaks a bit too suddenly. It had been far too long since he had maneuvered a car. He caught Lizzy jolting forward then back in her seat out of the corner of his eyes with his ungraceful halting of the vehicle.

When he looked in her direction as he tightened his hands over the steering wheel, he saw that she was smiling down at the textbooks resting on her knees as she picked and plucked at the spine with her fingers. It was a dimple-cheeked smile that almost made him feel as if he had forgotten his own real name for a second there. Raymond Reddington, he chanted in his head, just to be certain.

The lights turned green and he eased his foot much gentler into the accelerator. Driving after such an absence from it hadn't been as challenging as he had initially thought.

He didn't want to have to face the discomfiture he would feel when he had to ask whereabouts it was that her school was and in which general direction. But he hadn't been in Nebraska for an extremely long time now and he couldn't not ask, despite his head screaming at him not to. He wanted to seem perfectly in control and knowledgeable of his surroundings to her, and yet he wasn't.

"You're going to have to give me directions if you don't mind, sweetheart." The endearment came out naturally without him putting much thought into what he was saying. It just seemed to come and flow out. "I won't know where to take you if you don't show me and guide me along. My knowledge of schools in Nebraska are quite lacking. Then again, I am just a silly _old_ man to you, aren't I?"

That backhanded comment was like a blow to the stomach.

She closed her eyes for a second in embarrassment, her face flaming with heat. She had suspected that she had offended him by that thoughtless comment regarding his age and, as it turned out, she was spot on with her assumptions. It just never registered in her mind that men could be so sensitive about their age; Her dad Sam certainly never seemed to let it phase him.

"I was just joking about what I said with the entire age thing," she tried to explain, a genial laugh almost escaping. "I never meant it seriously. I... I just get moments of verbal diarrhea if you hadn't noticed already." The burn to her cheeks intensified, radiating down to her chest through her blouse when the word diarrhea left her. What was she doing?

"Yes, well. I am rather prone to moments of verbal diarrhea myself, Lizzy. I think it is simply called being human. We are fallible and thus, we make mistakes. It's ingrained into our very nature."

She couldn't believe it. Of all things, they were speaking of diarrhea, but his words did seem to soothe her. It appeared to her as if he was consoling her, reassuring her that he hadn't actually taken her comment over his age fully to heart. It made her heart lift in her chest.

"Where did you say your school was?"

"I... I didn't yet. But you turn left here. Then you take the next left." The rest of the drive was spent with Elizabeth explaining to Kenneth whereabouts her school was. Every time he glanced in her direction, Elizabeth was feeling more and more anxious. She wished this strange feeling would go away and yet, at the same time, it was so exhilarating and unfamiliar to her to feel this way about somebody.

Whether Red realized it or not, now that he understood the vague directions to her school, he eased back a little on the speed, driving slower. Of course, she would still make it in time for school. He just did not feel all that ready to have her leave the car with him just yet.

"And so what subjects do you take at school?" In his mind, he reasoned that he was simply getting to know her. These were harmless questions, nothing of true meaning or significance.

"Well, I take history. And English." It bored her, him asking what subjects she was undertaking at school, if she had to be honest. She would much have preferred to know more intimate and personal details about him. Like his marital and relationship status, for example. She expected to feel devastated once he admitted that he was, in fact, in a committed relationship or marriage. "And it was compulsory to learn a language this year."

"And what language was that?"

"French."

Something lightened his eyes. "Vous etes comme un eclat de lumiere," he spoke in an easy breath as he glanced in her direction, the words rolling off his tongue and washing over her pleasantly.

His facial expression softened dramatically, as though he was being tender with her, though she was unsure what it was he actually said in the language; She hadn't gotten that advanced in her study. The way he spoke the language, with his voice, it was so... heavenly. She could have listened to his voice all day, whether it be in general English or otherwise.

She let out a small laugh. "I'm not that far into learning it just yet." Her voice sounded so soft and breathless, and she felt as if her wanting him and her attraction to him had soared sky high to the roof due to learning he also knew how to speak fluently in a different language. "What was it that you just said to me exactly?"

Kenneth turned his eyes back to the road, chewing the inside of his cheek. Elizabeth thought he appeared abashed and the muscle below his left eyelid twitched.

"Did you just say something dirty to me in French?" she asked suspiciously with a short scandalized laugh. Or maybe it was thinking wishfully on her part. "Is that why you refuse to tell me? Why you're embarrassed to translate?"

The fact that she said what she did outright, about him talking dirty to her as if she believed he ever would had he half a mind to, it made a gnawing anxiety settle within. She hardly sounded as if she would have minded if he had spoken something dirty to her in the slightest, which to him, was just... unfortunate. She sounded hopeful and it was dreadful. Just what would Sam possibly say or do if he ever knew of this?

Red felt immediately jittery at being put on the spot the way he was. _You are like a burst of light_ , was what he had said. He had said it so impulsively, so foolishly, without even taking into consideration that she may have known the language that well enough at her school to have picked up on it.

He thanked the heavens above that she did not seem to understand what he had said, because he understood belatedly just how awkward it would have been, how... inappropriate. It would have only served to complicate things tremendously. He did not know what he was doing with her, but it occurred to him that he was flirting. He was actually flirting with Lizzy, trying to hold her interest.

If he was the usual greedy and selfish man that he was typically, he would have kept going at it, making it so she would never think of anyone else, that she would never want anyone else, that she'd come to... feel things for him. He would move across that fatal solid line he had drawn. Make her feel so wrapped up and hot with desire that she would begin to want him. After all, he had been supplying money to Sam to provide for her for years. Her education. Her basic needs. She was practically his for the taking anyway, wasn't she? But all that aside, he could not be that man. He would not be that man. For the sake of his loyalty to Sam and their friendship, he would not cross that boundary. He could not.

He turned on the radio just for something to do, a mindless distraction. A woman was reporting the day's news, about a recent bombing in Argentina. He tensed when something was mentioned about the FBI, and then he caught himself wondering what if, God forbid, they mentioned his name right there and then and Lizzy heard it.

He had to remind himself that he was not Raymond Reddington to her, the criminal gracing Number 4 on America's 10 Most Wanted list for treason, espionage, money laundering and a countless other list of goodies. He was just Kenneth Rathers, an innocent accountant to her. They shared history due to her childhood, though as far as Lizzy knew, they hadn't.

Lizzy would never come to know, of any of it. She couldn't.

When Lizzy pointed out where her school was and he signaled into the busy parking lot to find a safe space to let her out, another concern filled his mind as he observed a group of young boys around her age sitting on a bench talking among themselves.

He started thinking of how she was regarded at school by her peers. Was she popular? Did all the boys try to get her attention, fussing and fawning over her?

With how much of a wondrous sight she was, he assumed so and it did not settle with him so well. A tight unhappy feeling constricted his chest as he imagined her flirting with all the boys, teasing them with her dimpled smile and lovely eyes. It terrified him a little to realize that how he felt about it was nothing more than sheer jealousy; a completely unfounded and utterly base emotion. But with a firm grasp of control onto himself, he pushed that all aside as he reversed in a fairly tight space between two cars.

"Well, here we are, sweetheart. At your school." As before, the endearment left his tongue so comfortably. "Be sure to have a good day at school, won't you?" It was as if his voice had a mind of its own. "Oh, and do be mindful not to break too many naughty and unscrupulous boy's hearts in the process." The next comment had come out just as easily and he cringed at how irritated and sarcastic he sounded.

Elizabeth smiled nervously with a quiet murmur of thanks as she reached down to pick up her school bag, her ears catching the peculiar way he intoned his words. When she glanced in Kenneth's direction, she saw that he was staring forward out the windshield. She was unsure what it was but it appeared as if his entire demeanor had shifted and changed in the space of a short second. She felt some weird issue or tension there.

"Be careful not to break boy's hearts?" she repeated softly in astonishment. "I think that's pretty unlikely to happen. Boys hardly even go near me and even if they did, I don't think I would really want them to."

When he turned his head to look in her direction, she saw the way Kenneth inclined his head slightly, his facial expression what she could only describe as frighteningly solemn. His eyes burned into hers as he rolled his lower jaw muscles and she felt so tempted to avoid his gaze again, as usual, because he made her so nervous. In fact, the way he was looking at her now, it was stern and intimidating. There was no playfulness or softness.

He did seem capable of silencing someone with a mere look alone, she thought. She caught herself wondering for a moment there if Kenneth was truly a sort of dangerous man, despite not seeming so at first, just a handsome man filled with eccentricities, because if looks could kill... she'd be dead ten seconds flat into staring back at him.

She had to break his gaze as the tension had gotten too much for her to handle. She peered back down at the textbooks in her lap, finding her hands trembling while she wondered what was happening and what he was trying to communicate non-verbally between the lines with such a lethal look directed at her.

Had she said something wrong to insult him again without even realizing it? Knowing her, probably she had, though she was not sure what it was that she had said to offend him this time around.

"Then I'm very glad," he spoke, finally breaking the awful silence between them, his voice raspy and guttural; a tone she had never heard come from him before when he talked.

"Glad?" She gave him a fleeting look before she had to glance away again, averting his eyes. He was still looking at her in that way and it was scaring her, and she had to be truthful to herself in acknowledging to that. Faintly, she realized he reminded her of her dad Sam in that moment, with how he would look if she did something wrong to push him, a look that would make her immediately apologetic and regretful as she quivered in her boots. "Glad about what, Kenneth?"

That already frayed string of self-restraint broke inside Red fully and he leaned over across the console to press an open-mouthed kiss to her soft cheek. He felt her quake underneath his lips contact, her shoulders hunching into a shrug, as if endearingly embarrassed and suddenly squeamish.

And, squeamish, Elizabeth was. It had been the very last thing she had expected to happen. Maybe in a fantasy but not in real life, in reality. At the first press his lips made against her cheek, it felt almost as though her heart was threatening to explode on her.

His lips were slightly parted and puckered, his mouth hot on her skin. Chapped yet soft in texture, and it made a tingling feeling assault her brutally as her heart screamed in exultation. It was everything she had wanted and more, ever since first laying eyes on him barely two days ago when he had decided to come stay at the house. It felt so surreal, like she was dreaming or playing out a wicked fantasy inside her mind.

Yet it was not a fantasy. It was real life and it was happening.

She felt him draw his head back a little, his lips leaving her cheek. Then he did it again, once more, in the same spot, this time the tip of his nose prodding against her skin and his two front teeth touching her cheek, scraping lightly . She thought she heard him inhale her in and Elizabeth felt her eyes flutter closed. It was... for lack of a better word, heaven.

A childish, awkward giggle almost escaped the back of her throat. She was enjoying it far too much than what she ought to have no doubt, and for once in her life, ever since he had came over, she thought she understood with such aching clarity about what was going on with her body now and why it responded to him so funnily the way it tended to.

She wanted him and she desired him- her dad's childhood friend and a man she did not even properly know, who was over half her age- even to the point where scarily she felt she wanted nothing more than for him to bed her, to make love to her.

The sensations he made her body feel alone simply by a double open-mouthed cheek kiss were frightening, and when she felt him move back into the seat as his lips left her skin for the final time, she opened her eyes quickly and tried to appear unaffected. It was a tough battle to fight, though.

She did not find it within herself the capability to look at him. She felt as if she was left on fire, blistering alive at the skin. As she reached down to grab her school bag to open the door, Kenneth did not say anything as she stood out of the car onto the pavement, throwing the strap of her bag over her right shoulder. He did not offer her any explanation why or any justification, but she decided he did not need to.

She was not aware that a kiss on the cheek could feel that sexy, that invigorating and special on the senses.

Elizabeth felt as though walking was near impossible as she took the usual steps towards the building, cutting through the grass track. His kisses had left residual tender feelings on the exact places he had touched her cheek with his lips. She felt so giddy and high, still slightly filled with disbelief at what he had done and what it had meant to her.

It was only when she had reached the steps that she dared to look. Kenneth was pulling out of the parking space, but the window was wound down, his hair rustling in the breeze. As he cruised towards her at a reasonable speed in her dad's treasured Ford Pontiac, she heard him as he called out through the rolled down window at her. He lifted his hand in a brisk wave while he spoke; An urgent command, yet it also sounded like a vague warning, a threat to her very own person hood with the way in which he said it.

"I urge you not to speak any of this to Sam, Lizzy. Surely as his daughter you can understand that."

Then both him and the car were gone.

 _Another chapter again :P Hope this one finds you some enjoyment. Thank you so much for your kind words of encouragement, it really does mean a lot to me as someone new and daunted by doing this story writing. I would love to know what you feel about this chapter so please don't hold back. I hope they aren't too out of character as always a worry. Also hope the pace isn't too rushed? It'll be rough sailing, with Red drawing back from her and then in, then back again. He'll be very worried for Sam discovering what's going on with them. And Lizzy will be more persistent, asking if he knew anything about the fire when she was little and what happened to her parents as in the show. :D Thank you!_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thank you so much for your such kind and encouragement. I am so anxious about this one. Merci, thanks for your alerts and kind words.**_

 _ **Chapter 6**_

"Heard my car engine going as it pulled out of the driveway?" was the first thing Red heard from Sam as he opened the front door, stepping inside the house with a casket of Miller Light beer hanging off the crook of his index finger. "Thought maybe you were doing a little auto theft and that I'd never see my car parked outside in the driveway ever again?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Sam. I just offered to take Lizzy to school. It was raining and she didn't want to get her clothes and her hair wet."

He forced a smile on his face, crashing back down to reality as Sam finally appeared in the hallway. Red felt his cheeks fill up with blood, his hands from the wrist downward to his fingers shaking.

Just in the car on the way back to the house, he had been thinking about Lizzy. About what he had done to her before she got out of the car to go into school, about how it had felt. How her cheek gave out the lightest tremble below his lips. At the time, he had been lost in the moment, perhaps dangerously so. He had gotten senselessly carried away, and then about fifteen minutes after having done it, he came to his senses and regretted what he had done with such burning ferocity.

Out on a whim, he had decided to find the nearest liquor store in Nebraska that he could to remedy Sam's alcohol drought.

He had felt sick to the stomach at the idea of facing Sam- being even enticed to crack open a bottle of beer on the way home- and now that Sam was standing there, right in front of him, Lizzy's adopted father so ignorant and unaware, it actually was a lot harder to meet his eyes than he had first counted on.

Guilt laid heavy like a rock in his heart at the thought of wronging his friend so badly. Sam would have never forgiven him had he ever found out that he had kissed Lizzy. A kiss on the cheek, mind- but still a kiss nevertheless. He knew fair well what insinuations Sam would draw out of it, and most of them would have been partly true.

Telling Sam and appeasing his own guilt needn't be an option. Sam could never know. He didn't need to know. Instead, Red ignored the heaviness in his heart to focus on performing the perfect masquerade of his usual self as he stepped closer towards where Sam was standing in the hallway while lifting the beers high into the air.

"Look what I have here, Sam," he murmured, with a grin. It was a great deal easier to maintain the act and keep it up when he forced a distraction onto himself instead. "I couldn't help noticing last night that you hadn't any secret stash of booze in the house anywhere and so fortunately for you, I've found a quick and easy way to remedy that in buying you your very own stash in order to put an end to your alcohol drought."

"You really think that's such a good idea, Ray? There was a very important reason why there wasn't any alcohol in the house."

"Oh? And what's that, Sam?" He followed Sam into the living room, his friend sighing loudly as he sunk down into his armchair. "You know, I remember when there used to be a time there where not even a day went passed in which either of us hadn't had a drink of alcohol."

"Well, times are fast changing, Ray. We aren't exactly those two young and foolish kids anymore, are we?"

"Don't remind me," Red muttered, half playful, half in serious irritation. Getting older the way they were, it just sucked the fun out of everything nowadays. He much preferred not to think of it. He tore the side of the cardboard carton open, yanking out two beers. As he sat on the couch across from Sam and leaned over to hand him one of the beers he had pried the lid open on, he noticed his friend's hesitation. "What?" He tilted his head in confusion. "You're not drinking anymore, Sam?" He choked out an insincere chuckle. "Had I known in advance that you had turned into such a goody-two shoes... abstaining from both the hard liquor and cigarettes, then I mightn't have bothered buying it in the first place."

It occurred to Red how agitated he was growing. His arm shook as he held the beer bottle out to his friend, with trying to persuade him into it. He realized this was his very own private way to attempt to make amends with Sam, to apologize for what had happened in the morning in the car with Lizzy. If he didn't end up taking the beer from him, accepting his peace-offering, it would have only made him feel even worse than he already did.

But then, just like that, Sam was swayed. "Oh, what the hell? One wouldn't kill anyone, right?"

He took the beer from him with a hoarse laugh while Red busied himself in cranking open one as well. He dropped the rest of the beers in the carton on the floor near the side of the couch, settling back into the chair comfortably, stretching out his legs. Metaphorically, he wiped his brow in immense relief and that heavy weight in his heart seemed to melt away into the background.

"You just wait until my Butterball gets home and she realizes I've had a drink."

"Does it even matter if you have just one drink?" Red said, not understanding. He sipped at his beer, the frothy chilled liquid flowing down his throat. "Would Lizzy even truly care?"

"Well, you don't know her like I do, Ray." A nervous laugh escaped Sam's throat, his voice tight and anxious. He found it so fascinating how afraid Sam could be of his adopted daughter. "She's like a blood-hound when it comes to these sorts of things. There's no hiding these things from her."

"We'll have already thrown out the bottles into the trash by the time she gets here," Red reassured him.

"Still that won't make much difference when it comes to her." He watched as Sam nudged his ottoman closer with his shoes, then he lifted his feet up to sit them on it, relaxing. "Let me tell you a little story: One time when she was around thirteen, I decided I badly needed a cigarette so I snuck outside and stood out at the back door to have one. I was being real quiet about it. Butterball was so wrapped up in reading one of her books that I hadn't even thought she'd noticed I was gone. And you want to know what happened?"

"What happened, Sam?" He asked quietly, prompting him to continue.

His friend's voice was shaky with laughter. "Well, I rushed back inside into the bathroom afterwards, spraying myself with aftershave, trying to conceal the smell. And you know what that damn girl did? Instance I sat back down into my chair, she stopped reading her book and just stared at me disapprovingly with the most stern eyes. I felt like I was a kid that had been caught out with his hand in the cookie jar. I felt that bad at the time that it was enough for me to never touch another cigarette again."

Red laughed, bringing his eyes down to the condensation rolling down the neck of his bottle. He could only just imagine it. Sam talking with him, about Lizzy, about certain things that had happened during her childhood years... he felt so absorbed in listening. He just found it so riveting, hearing about her, learning about what she must have been like.

"The damn girl knew straightaway where I had gone somehow, that I had a cigarette outside! I swear, even gurgling down an entire bottle's worth of mouthwash wouldn't have been enough to successfully hide the stench from her. She's like a damned bloodhound for sure."

Red was grinning to himself as he swallowed down a few mouthfuls of his beer. He was so thankful; So very thankful that Sam was doing this, that he was telling him this. That smile waned slightly when he peered up at Sam again. He was so much indebted to Sam for not only taking Lizzy in, but for everything in general. For being such a wonderful father to Lizzy especially, to take due care and time to guide her along so that she wouldn't be lead astray.

"I haven't told you enough how grateful I am, have I, Sam? In fact, I hardly recall ever saying it to you at all, expressing the many ways in which how thankful I am."

"Grateful about what, Ray?"

"For Lizzy. For all that you've... done for her." He met and held Sam's eyes meaningfully, a dull ache palpitating at the back of his throat. "You've done such a tremendous job in raising her, Sam. Just this morning, while I was talking to her in the car, I realized just how... fantastically you've done with her. She's so much more than what I had expected. And, oddly enough, she's so much like you."

Such an overwhelming feeling coursed through Red to the point where he began to find it incredibly difficult to breathe. He felt as though he was about to burst open at the skin, to split open with the weight of the poignant emotions that had been stirred into him.

"She's so light, so frivolous and... bright. She's so very bright, Sam. She was telling me about all the subjects she was taking at her school."

 _And so desirable and so beautiful._ He had to pause for a second to catch his breath. Had he been more mellowed-out than he already was from the alcohol in his system, he would have slipped up horribly. And she has one hell of a smile that has the potential to make your knees go weak, he would have added to the countless adjectives he could have used to describe her. But no, he couldn't. Not to Sam. Never in front of Sam.

"She's just... not at all how she was when I found her as that crying little girl from the house fire, Sam," he continued, shaking his head in wonder as he chuckled softly. Had he been in the company of anyone other than Sam, he would have felt abashed at the tone of his voice, at how undependable and shaky with emotion it had became. But he felt there was nothing wrong with Sam knowing. Sam would understand perfectly well, if not more than anyone possibly ever could. "There were many times there over the years where I had feared what would eventually come of her."

It was true, and he had. No matter where he had been at the time, no matter what location or what was happening, there hadn't been a week that had gone past where he hadn't wondered and reflected on that child that he had rescued from the fire.

While he trusted he had done the best for her at the time, in leaving her in Sam's capable care as he knew Sam, above all else, was trustworthy and entirely capable of looking after a child, he still worried, perhaps needlessly.

Sam probably did not understand the high extent to which dropping into his house again eleven years later and seeing her, alive and well and so filled with life, had soothed him and calmed his mind. Seeing her again was like a great big weight had been lifted off his chest; an invisible weight that had been bearing him down, sending him slumping and his shoulders in a permanent state of aching, for years.

"I had wondered whether the knowledge of her past would become too much for her, that... she would grow to become a young woman in such pain and despair that she would attempt to dull and numb those feelings away with alcohol or drugs and other various vices, but you've ensured that she wouldn't, haven't you Sam? The love and guidance you have given her over the years has helped her to rise above it all to become such a beautiful bright young woman with such potential."

He raised his eyes from his bottle again to his friend, sentimentality flooding him.

"And you, Sam..." He laughed again. "You've come so marvelously far from that scared, cowering man that you were the night I had unexpectedly pushed her into your arms at your front door step, urging you to take care of her, to... to make sure that she was safe and loved and well provided for."

For the first time during Red's speech of Lizzy, Sam lifted his head to laugh. "I wouldn't be so hasty to say that. I think I'm still very much that same old cowering man I was back then. There's no one else more terrifying in the world than Butterball, and raising her, as you very well know, it's still a challenge even now. I just thank God that her Aunt June was there during the puberty years to help her otherwise I would have been downright hopeless with it all."

Afterwards, once their beers were finished, they threw the empty bottles out into the trash while Red hid the rest upstairs in the guest bedroom that he was sleeping in.

The guilt returned as his companion again when he heard the front door open as Lizzy made her way in from school. He paused with one shoe hovering over the first step to the stairs, listening as Sam asked her how her day at school had been. He heard Lizzy mention something about being handed out a new assignment, his heart rate increasing unpleasantly.

In a moment of indecision, Red considered heading back into the living room to sit. He yearned for nothing more than to be able to sit in that chair, seeing her first thing as she came into the room. He would pat the space beside him, inviting her to sit next to him. Browbeat her a bit more into not mentioning any of what had happened in the car this morning to her father Sam.

Only having to endure being around her right now after he had made such a terrible mistake this morning, it would have been more than he felt he was capable of enduring.

Instead, he decided the best course of action would be avoiding being near her altogether so he started treading up the stairs, taking the left into the guest bedroom. He shut the door hastily, leaning forward to press the center of his forehead into the smooth wood as he inhaled loudly against it.

What he had done to her this morning, it had just been a mere moment of weakness; One he would not be repeating again.

He had made such a grave mistake with her this morning.

He should have kept himself in better check, and yet, he had failed in doing so terribly.

He knew that if Sam had ever come to find out, he would never forgive him. He didn't want to have to hear what perverted and distorted accusations that would have spilled out of Sam's mouth; That he was nothing less than a disgusting pervert for being attracted to her, that he was preying on Lizzy, taking advantage of her goodness. And if Sam had, could he really fault him for that? Sam would have been accurate with his assumptions regardless of how hard it would have been for Red to hear them being said out loud.

But everything would be vastly different once he left the house and carried on conducting his business and meeting with various contacts and associates. Lizzy would just become a passing thought in his mind from time to time. He wouldn't think about her then, not while he was busy.

It was only four more days or so of staying in Sam's house. Four more days until he would leave and forget all about her and what had happened. He was the adult here, not Lizzy when it came to this situation. The sole responsibility of whether or not boundaries were overstepped were resting on his shoulders alone.

Four more days, that was all. It could easily be done.

But in the meantime, however, he would have to try to avoid Lizzy and keep his distance at all costs. His friendship to Sam and Lizzy's well-being depended on it. Out of sight, out of mind, as the phrase went. And that phrase had never been more truer than it had in the circumstances he had found himself stuck in now.

Elizabeth had noticed Kenneth hadn't bothered to come down for dinner tonight.

She wondered suspiciously if it had something to do with her. Was he avoiding her because of what had happened when he drove her to school in her dad's car? Did he regret kissing her on the cheek?

She sat in a chair at the kitchen table with her father, that familiar companionable silence shared between them with the exception of their knives and forks scraping against their plates.

When she had asked her father where Kenneth was, her father had been strangely vague on the subject, as if he was keeping something from her. He had just said that Kenneth did not feel like joining them for dinner that night, that he would be upstairs in the guest bedroom though he did not provide her with any proper reason why.

After she had eaten most of her dinner, Elizabeth stood up to put her plate in the sink. When she looked around, trying to find the plug to fill it up with water so she could get started on washing up the dishes, she saw the full, untouched plate of food covered with plastic wrap.

"Dad, is this Kenneth's dinner over here?" she asked.

"Sure is, honey. If you wouldn't mind, could you take it upstairs for me and see whether he wants it up there or not?"

Elizabeth nodded obediently, grabbing the plate and a clean knife and fork to carry upstairs to him. Nerves took hold of her again as usual when she started stepping carefully up the stairs towards the guest bedroom. She knew he was still awake and that she wouldn't be disrupting him when she dropped her eyes to the space below his door. She could see the light reflecting from in the room. He had the light in the bedroom on still.

Approaching the door, she lifted her hand hesitantly, then knocked twice while she waited.

"Yes?" His voice drifted out through the wood of the closed door, slightly muffled, and she couldn't help detecting the note of annoyance in it. "Yes, what is it?"

"Um, it's me. Liz."

"Yes. What is it, Lizzy?"

She was not prepared for it when the bedroom door suddenly swung open, the light blinding her eyes momentarily. She blinked several times before her vision returned to normal, Kenneth becoming visible from where he stood in front of her.

He was wearing the same clothes as he had earlier this morning when he drove her to school; The jeans and the blue shirt, but he had undone three of the top buttons, the collar hanging loosely around his neck and the warm, tan masculine muscles in his throat to be seen. She found herself fixated on that patch of hair on his chest, always seeming to be fixated on such a personal sight without her control, and with some effort, she dragged her eyes away up towards his face instead.

Her heart raced when she saw that he was staring at her expectantly, waiting. She did not know how people acted normal around someone they liked so very much, especially when they had kissed them. Her eyes went to his tightly-pursed lips, thinking about how it had felt to have them on her cheek. It had felt so unbelievably wonderful, like a dream. She wanted him to kiss her again but on the lips.

He was wearing black-rimmed reading glasses, something she was not anticipating on. She never even knew he was required to wear them, but she had to remind herself that she hardly knew the man at all aside from what she felt about him.

They suited him, she thought. They seemed to bring out the color of his eyes in addition to making him appear both more irresistibly intelligent and handsome to her.

"Is there a particular reason why you've come up here, sweetheart?" he asked gently when Elizabeth hadn't spoken. "Since you are just standing there, I'm assuming there is?"

Despite his pledge to keep his distance and avoid her at all costs, Red felt sordidly relieved that she had come upstairs to knock on the door. As usual, he found her reactions whenever he was near her so beguiling. This morning hadn't changed anything, it would seem. Even now, it still appeared as if she found it excruciatingly difficult to so much as even maintain simple eye contact with him.

If he had to be honest, he enjoyed having that particular affect on her. She held some sort of hold over him; that he could not, and would not deny. But it also satisfied him that he obviously held some sort of unexplained power over Lizzy also.

She bit her bottom lip as her eyes fell to the plate she was holding out in front of her. "Um, sorry for intruding but my father asked me to come up here to give you your dinner because he wasn't sure whether you wanted to eat it up here or not," she explained quietly, looking every which way but directly at him.

"Yes, I'll eat it up here in private like I usually prefer to do with my dinners." He took the plate and silverware from her with a thankful smile, stepping back into the room. "Thank you, Lizzy."

He moved towards the table near the bed, placing the plate and cutlery down on it carefully. When he turned, he saw that Lizzy was still standing there, her arms curled around her stomach, as she looked around the guest room curiously before she met his eyes again tentatively.

"I never knew you had to wear glasses?"

He hadn't been expecting her to comment on it. It was the very last thing he had been expecting from her, and it surprised him. "That's because I'm partially blind in my right eye."

"You're blind in your right eye? I never would have even known that if you hadn't told me?"

Before he could refrain from doing it, he went on, hoping to obtain her interest, "Believe it or not, Lizzy, I was actually swimming in shallow water on a holiday when this great, large _beast_ of a Dasyatis Lata- also known as an Hawaiian Broad Stingray in simpler terms- came towards me practically out of nowhere and stung me in the eye."

It was nothing but a fabrication to impress her, he just could not seem to help himself, and it was not one of his finest, he knew. But it was either that or telling her the embarrassing and dull truth; That along with aging and getting older, eyesight doesn't remain as good as it once was. He so loved that she indulged him in his nervous chatter every now and then.

"Hurt like hell, and manifestly, it's effected my eyesight in my eye ever since."

He earned a dimple-cheeked smile out of her and it made his heart rate increase. It was so gratifying that he didn't have to worry when he tended to babble in front of her, as Lizzy seemed happy to listen and hang onto every single word he said. At times, she could look so intent and engrossed as he spoke, as if she was truly listening, letting his words sink in and crawl underneath her skin.

"Partially blind in your right eye or not, wearing them makes you look good. You look... all the more handsome and intelligent." She spoke the words in a low and hesitant murmur, her cheeks aflame as the breathless comment passed her lips. There had been something she wanted to ask him. She had to consider what it was very carefully until she remembered. "What did you mean with what you said in the car this morning?" she asked, as it had bothered her all day. She had felt so ecstatic that he had kissed her cheek. "That I shouldn't speak any of it to my father?"

He turned away, showing nothing else but the back of his head and his back to her.

"I apologize for what happened this morning. As you no doubt already know, Sam and I are very close friends. We've been friends longer than you have even been brought into this world. To tell Sam would be to... complicate our friendship tremendously and frankly, it isn't something I would like to risk." He did feel as though he meant it. He hadn't really wanted to speak about it- in fact, ignoring the entire subject would have pleased him greatly- yet Lizzy clearly wanted to. He supposed he could not fault her for that. Perhaps he deserved to give her a proper explanation. "I overstepped a line and for that, I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me."

"You're apologizing?" Elizabeth felt a gut-wrenching pain through her abdomen at his words. He had no reason to apologize but she could tell by the way he was avoiding her eyes and how his tone went, that he was feeling remorseful. "There's nothing to forgive, Kenneth. I... I actually wanted you to do it and I liked it when you did."

He lifted his head to meet her eyes, startled by what she said.

Red's heart seemed to freeze at her words as he glanced away from her, working his lower jaw muscles. Could she not understand that she could not say such things? That she shouldn't be saying them, certainly not to him, of all people?

"Er, if that's all, you can leave now, Lizzy. You'll have to thank Sam for me for making dinner."

He turned his back on her with great effort as he moved towards the bed, pretending to be preoccupied with the crossword he had snagged from the newspaper downstairs. To look her way would have only served to be immensely painful on him.

He found he could not possibly bare to see any potential signs of hurt or embarrassment on her face, particularly when he knew it had taken a lot for her to come out and say such a thing to him, being as shy and guarded as she evidently was with people.

It came to his attention then that she had a crush on him, though he was unwilling to believe. He did not want to believe, he could not. He was unworthy of such a thing and to think that there was even the slightest chance or possibility that Lizzy may have returned his feelings... it was a horrifying prospect.

But he could not disregard how everything clicked into place with great clarity. In that instant of hearing her words and repeating them in his head, her behavior, although sweetly endearing and amusing of her, immediately made sense.

She had a crush on him. She liked him, him as Kenneth. A part of him had desired this outcome, had privately yearned for it, and yet now that it had been fulfilled and he had gotten a taste of what it was like to be the object of her affection, he was struck with sheer dread.

If ever a moment came where she knew his true identity, Red had no doubts in his mind whatsoever that things would be hugely different.

The reality was that Kenneth Rathers was in actuality Raymond Reddington, and Raymond Reddington... he was nothing but a hideous excuse for a man. A hideous creature, utterly undeserving of the title of a young woman's crush.

He listened carefully until he heard her footsteps retreating out of the room against the carpet. It was only then that he found the strength within him to turn around and shut the door.

 _Here is another chapter and I thank you for inspiring me to write so much. I always worry that I have done unwell with their characters in keeping them true which I sense has happened here in this chapter. I'm sorry if that remains true. I may take slower to update as I have to return to work and normal life. If there is anything you would like to happen in the story you are always invited to let me know. I'll just say that something will happen to make Red decide to stay a bit longer which won't be so good for Elizabeth but will make her fall into Red's arms and bring them closer :)_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Thank you so much for being so nice. Hope you like this chapter. I may not be able to update as often as I can because work requirements have come up again but hope that isn't something you would mind. :)**_

 _ **Chapter 7**_

When Elizabeth woke the next morning, she got dressed into a pair of jeans, a floral T-shirt, and her sneakers, ready for another day at school. As she went downstairs to the kitchen, she stumbled to a halt when she found Kenneth already awake like how he had been yesterday. He was standing near the kitchen counter, one hand lifted as he separated the curtains to glance outside the window. When he heard her footsteps, she had to glance away when he turned to face her, her heart beating furiously. She wondered when she would ever be able to act normal around him. It was annoying.

"Morning, Kenneth," she whispered, clasping her hands out in front of her nervously.

"Good morning, Lizzy."

She wanted to ask him if he would mind taking her to school again. She liked having him drive her, especially when it meant they had quiet time to themselves where she could ask him questions and they could talk. Even if it was nerve-wracking.

"Uh-oh, it's been raining again," Kenneth said, drawing her eyes back to him. He was trying to make a playful joke out of it all. In his mind, he acknowledged that perhaps he was trying to be slightly flirtatious too. "I think we both know what _that_ means."

Her eyes raked down what he was wearing as her heart soared in her chest. This morning, he was wearing an unbuttoned black trench coat that reached just below his knees, black trousers, and a white shirt. The collar was pushed up around his neck. When she dragged her eyes up slowly to his face, he was watching her, expecting for her to answer. She felt shy that he probably caught her checking him out but he did not comment on it.

"You're going to drive me to school again?" she guessed breathlessly.

"Yes, that's right."

"Thank you," she murmured gratefully as he strolled around the counter, aware that she was whispering for some reason she was unsure of. "It would really help. Are you sure you wouldn't mind taking me again, though?"

"It's no inconvenience, truly. Also, I used initiative to make you a sandwich for lunch."

Elizabeth blinked up at him in surprise. She hadn't expected him to do that. "Oh, you really didn't have to do that?"

"Well, I couldn't help noticing yesterday that you hadn't packed anything for your lunch. I was up earlier so I assumed it was the right thing to do." She took more notice then of what he was holding in his right hand; The sandwich he made for her wrapped in plastic cling.

"Thank you."

"Your very welcome, Lizzy. You and Sam hardly have many ingredients in the fridge so I had to make do with what I could. I hope you like peanut butter and jelly?"

"I really appreciate it." An awkward moment passed where Kenneth stood in front of her, staring. Elizabeth really had no idea what to say.

"Shall we go?" He suggested while slipping a hand into the side pocket of his coat, and she was relieved he had broken the silence.

"Sure. Let me just run upstairs and grab my things."

She carried the sandwich he had made for her upstairs, shoving it into her bag as she grabbed all of her textbooks. The fact that he had bothered to make her a sandwich for lunch made her feel embarrassed. It was as if he felt obligated to do it, like she was a young child that could not fend for herself and make or buy her own lunch at the school canteen if she needed to. He was just being nice, she told herself. He wasn't trying to be condescending or to imply that he thought she was a child. Or so she hoped.

* * *

"Your driving has improved since yesterday," she commented when they reached a red light and were forced to stop. She didn't jolt forward in her seat this time. "Your much... smoother on the breaks."

"I think I've gotten back into the swing of it more than I had yesterday. It isn't as nerve-wracking nor is it as difficult as I had first assumed it was."

Another silence that felt awkward passed between them and Elizabeth resorted to staring out the fogged-up window, seeing and pretending to be concentrated on other things though she did not feel as though she was really seeing anything. It was still raining heavily though people were still walking outside, shielded under the safe shelter of their umbrellas. She felt hyper-aware of his presence in the restricted confines of her father's car.

"Who's K.R?" Kenneth asked, his voice startling her. He sounded curious. "A boy at your school?"

Her head shot back into his direction. He was looking right at her, though he inclined his head, motioning towards the textbooks she had resting in her lap with his chin. She did not fully understand what he meant until she lowered her eyes to them.

A surge of heat hit her face as she pressed her lips tightly together, clenching her eyes shut for a second in embarrassment, when she realized one of the pages in her textbook were sticking out. It was the one in which she had doodled K.R in the middle of a love heart during class.

It was the worst thing that could have ever happened to her, she felt, though she knew that was a rather over-dramatic way to view the situation. She had drawn that because of _him_ , something that she did not realize at the time had been so childish and silly of her. K.R was his initials but when she lifted her head and returned her eyes to him reluctantly, searching his face, she couldn't easily discern whether Kenneth realized that for himself or not.

"Yeah, it... it's just a guy from school that I like," she muttered, deliberately looking away out the front of the windshield, at the windscreen wipers that were sliding back and forth furiously. She felt so mortified. "We have history class together." Before Elizabeth could stop herself, she added in a hopefully convincing tone, "His name is Keith. Keith Richards." The name sounded strangely familiar to her, though she could not figure out why.

Until Kenneth called her out on it.

"Are you sure you don't just secretly have the hots for Keith Richards?"

"Well, that _is_ his name."

"No, I mean Keith Richards, one of the main members from the band The Rolling Stones?" She could not be sure, but it seemed as though he was teasing her. "Have to say that I'm a little disappointed in you, Lizzy." He tutted his tongue at her. "Keith Richards is far too old for you, wouldn't you think? I believe he's reached somewhere into his early seventies now."

Now Elizabeth understood why the name had sounded so familiar. The Rolling Stones was one of her father's favorite bands. "No, I... I definitely don't mean Keith Richards from The Rolling Stones," she muttered in exasperation, a laugh escaping her. "I mean the guy from school. Keith Richards is actually his name." She felt like such an idiot and now, he was making fun of her. She couldn't believe she had a slip-up of such a multitude. Of course Kenneth would know who The Rolling Stones were. He was close friends with her father. They probably even used to listen to their music together.

"Then he must earn some serious school cred for being named after Keith Richards from The Rolling Stones, I should imagine," he said, though she couldn't tell whether he had caught her out on the lie or not. Surely he had to know it was him she liked. "Does he know that you like him? This boy at your school?"

It was discomforting. It was truly Kenneth she had found herself crushing on, yet they were talking about it, with him most likely unaware that there was not really any guy at her school called Keith Richards that she liked.

She had to inhale in deeply through her nose in order to calm herself down. "No, he doesn't know that I like him."

"And do you intend to tell him?" Kenneth's tone was different, though Elizabeth couldn't put her finger on just what exactly it was that made it seem so. "Are you going to... ask him out on a date? It _is_ something adolescents your age do nowadays still, isn't it? Going out on dates with the opposite sex?"

"Yeah, people _do_ still go out on dates these days. I just... I don't think I would ever tell him, though. I wouldn't even ever ask him out." She turned her eyes on him, tingling again, when she noticed he was staring at her. He had a way of looking at her intensely with his piercing green eyes that made her feel like she was so interesting and captivating to him as both a person, and appearance-wise. If she had to be honest, interesting was the very last thing she would describe herself as.

"Why wouldn't you ask him? Is it because your shy?" He asked the question so straightforwardly, as if there was nothing wrong with being shy. It relieved her.

"I suppose I _am_ pretty shy at times," she admitted, returning her gaze to the outside of the window. "I just... I find it hard opening up around people and being my real self unless I fully know the person."

"Yes, and I'm quite the same myself." Her eyes returned to him as she squinted at him in disbelief. "It's always easier to open up to someone that you know and trust wholeheartedly."

"You're shy?" she repeated disbelievingly. "I don't think that you are. You always seem so... confident? Shy is the very last thing I think of you to be whenever I talk to you."

"Well, it's true. I _am_ shy." He gave her a tight-lipped smile. She noticed he did not say it as if to be shy was a negative trait. "Surely you've noticed the way I talk excessively, dishing out stories, some of which are _completely_ unrelated to the topic in question?"

"I would never have once thought of you as shy just because you tell stories. I... I like hearing your stories."

"Well, I _am_ painfully shy, believe it or not. I just try to overcome my shyness by acting and pretending as though I am the most confident person on the planet. Eventually, after awhile, you start believing that of yourself and it becomes infinitely easier."

It was so nice to learn that even adults do occasionally get shy from time to time. Elizabeth somehow had always believed shyness was only a trait of young children and people her age. It never occurred to her that adults could be inflicted with such the same thing.

It made Kenneth seem more human and real then. Though she still liked him a lot, he dropped from the pedestal she had placed him on, yet all the same, it made her like him even more than she already had.

"Well, it's reassuring to hear that. I always got the impression that I was the only one who felt that way."

"I can assure you that you're really not, Lizzy. I'm sure many your age and older have gone through what you feel you are going through, at least once in their lives. It's completely normal and a relatively harmless way to be."

She cleared her throat, saying anything she could muster. "And what about you?"

"What about me, Lizzy?"

"Do _you_ like anyone?" she asked, then she hesitated uneasily. The question was silly and she regretted it the instant it came out. She thought of a way to reassemble the question, to make it sound better. "Well, what I actually meant to ask is are you married?"

Her eyes flitted to his hands that were clenched around the steering wheel as he drove, inspecting his fingers. She was looking for a wedding ring; The one fatal and unfortunate sign that told her that Kenneth was. Fortunately for her, she could not see one. There was no golden band there, or any rings that indicated such.

It was one of the main things she still did not know about him, one of the main things she wanted to know most. "Or do you have a girlfriend?" She hoped she did not seem rude or intruding in asking, but her heart swelled in desperation to hear his answer.

She watched his face as she waited. He did not seem to want to meet her eyes or return any sort of eye contact with her. She noticed the corners of his lips curve downward slightly, the way his jaw tensed, then slackened as he blinked convulsively out the windshield. Elizabeth wondered then if asking the question had been a dangerous error in judgment.

"I was married once, Lizzy, yes, though... that was an extremely long, _long_ time ago. I was in my early twenties at the time."

Her heart sunk as he confirmed it. Why should she be so surprised, though? Men like him- so full of experience and so charming and handsome- had to have been married and been someone's husband, at least once. She never realized how much in difference stages of their lives they were due to the age difference, until then. Already, Kenneth had been married, while Elizabeth hadn't even so much as had her first serious boyfriend.

"I'm sorry that I asked," she got hurriedly. "I... I didn't realize that it would bother you?"

"It doesn't bother me in the slightest that you asked, Lizzy. I can understand your curiosity and your reasons for wanting to ask about it, at least on some level." Finally, Kenneth turned his head to meet her gaze. He smiled at her faintly, his eyes crinkling, though she could still see the tension there, particularly around his eyebrows and his forehead. "I just had made the mistake of marrying too young. I had rushed into things which was... incredibly foolish of me." He cleared his throat, putting on a brighter tone, "But alas, we all make mistakes as humans and all we can really do at the end of the day is to accept that we haven't the power to erase those mistakes and go back into the past for a do-over."

"Why?" she asked before she could stop herself. "What happened? You two are obviously... divorced?"

It disconcerted Red, how intrigued Lizzy seemed to be on the topic of his past marital failure, and he could not deny that. He did not understand why she was so interested in knowing such a thing, yet at the same time, he could. She was only in the start of her womanhood, with marriage being something completely unknown to her. It was foreign waters she had not stepped in as yet, and due to that, he supposed he could not fault her for her curiosity. Frankly, he wished she had not asked, that she was not trying to get him to speak of it.

"Yes, we are divorced now." He did not feel comfortable giving too much away, yet something about Lizzy made it impossible for him not to. He wanted to keep no secrets from her- to a certain degree. "She's since remarried to the man I caught her in bed with, at the time. You have to understand that, with my... profession, I am constantly required to travel to various locations to meet clients. I don't get home very much."

"As an accountant you are required to travel a lot?"

"Yes." It was a lie, of course. He was nowhere near an accountant or anything of the sort, but Lizzy could not know that. "I hadn't seen my wife in over seven months until I returned that night from my recent... travels with a client overseas. It was the forth of July, I believe, and I... I found her in bed with the neighbor next door. They had been playing house for quite some time." He felt rather embarrassed to speak such personal things to Lizzy, but he also knew that she was virtually an adult by now. It would not have harmed her to hear of such things.

Red was past his moment of feeling hurt and betrayed by his ex-wife Carla's actions. Now that he had gotten over it, he had been given a lot of time to properly access and evaluate what had gone wrong. He had come to the conclusion that he was the one at fault, that he was the one that had caused the eventual failure of their marriage.

"She was cheating on you with the next door neighbor?" He almost laughed at how Lizzy looked. She was so charmingly naive. Her blue eyes were wide with shock when he looked in her direction, her mouth agape.

"I adore your naivety on the subject," he remarked with a short laugh. "But yes, she had, and as it turned out, it was the... greatest thing she ever did." When he glanced Lizzy's way again, he saw how confused she was. "You have to understand, Lizzy, that I made a terrible husband, you see. I was an absent husband, and an even more distant lover."

He could still remember so vividly the way his ex-wife had looked when he walked in to find her laying in bed with the neighbor beside her; The petrified look gleaming in her wide-eyes. She had been so terrified that he would have killed Frank, her husband now. And, if Red had to be honest, he had felt tempted to murder him at the time, regardless of how passionate and desperate Carla had grown with her pleads for him not to.

"As humans we are naturally social creatures. We crave to feel loved, to feel reassured and appreciated, and above all that...to be fulfilled sexually- all the things that I could not give her while I was away, gallivanting across the globe. I couldn't blame her for her infidelity, because... he was there when I wasn't, and he was the companion she had needed at the time. If anything, I thanked him. It is always so difficult to maintain a marriage when your significant other is halfway across the world and, for that, there were no hard feelings felt for either of them."

"What was her name?" Elizabeth asked in a quiet, low voice.

"I beg your pardon? What was that?" She realized Kenneth hadn't heard the question.

"What was your ex-wife's name?" Red had no idea whatsoever on why she wanted to know that exactly. Why she felt the need to know his ex's name was a mystery to him.

"Carla. Her name is Carla."

"And do you still love her? Are you still... _in love_ with her?"

He caught the way she grew squeamish in the seat as she asked the question. She rubbed her hands together, fiddling with her slender fingers. Then she turned her wrist inward, picking and plucking at her scar. "Do I still love my ex-wife?" he repeated, thinking it over very seriously for a moment. "Yes, I feel I do. It isn't something you will understand until you've no doubt experienced it for yourself, Lizzy, but... when you've shared such history with someone, a marriage, you don't just stop loving them." He paused for a moment, searching for the correct words to easiest explain. "But that love changes and... softens into something far less passionate than what it once was."

He couldn't see her face properly; She appeared suddenly too interested with what was happening outside the window on her side and her hair covered it.

"Do you wish you were still married to her? Do you... miss her?" Elizabeth wasn't so sure what she was doing. All she knew, was that something bitter and sour had settled into her stomach, making it twist into knots.

"No. I can honestly say with great confidence that I do not miss her or that I... I wish I were still married to her, Lizzy. Because, the man she is with now. Frank... he's so much better for her than I ever was. You can tell in the way they look at each other, in the way they... respond to each other in a room. She's happy in a way that I could have never made her. I think that's all that matters, in the end. That the other person is... happy with the choice they've made."

It reassured Elizabeth that he wasn't still in love with his ex-wife, that he didn't seem to want her back. It was a silly feeling, she knew; It wasn't like she ever had a chance of being with him, that Kenneth would ever like her romantically. Still, it eased her mind and made her feel better. "Do you think you'll ever remarry?"

"Absolutely not." His tone drew her to glance over at him; He sounded so adamant. He had brought his right hand off the steering wheel as he rubbed the tips of four fingers over the line of his lips. Those lips that she would have given anything to feel against hers, passionately, slowly. "You know, you hear about it in the papers all the time. In the... gossip rags, how millionaires get remarried on an average of three times to a different person. I certainly could never be like that, nor do I have any particular interest in getting married again. I'm not going to jump on the bandwagon and remarry simply because everyone else is doing it."

"But what if it's with someone you feel really... connected to? Wouldn't you want to then, if you felt you truly loved them and that you wanted to commit?"

"No, I cannot say that I would. Not even then. I've experienced it once, and given how much of a sheer disaster it was the first time around, I have no intentions of putting myself through that again."

"Well, it's her loss," Elizabeth mumbled.

"What was that, sweetheart?" He was trying to get her to speaker in a louder, clearer volume. "I can't quite hear you when you speak so quietly with your words all garbled?"

"It's her loss," she repeated, lifting her voice. "Your ex-wife, I mean."

Red shook his head slightly, misunderstanding her. "Her loss with what exactly?"

"You," she said finally, and when she turned her face to look back at him, he felt his heart stop at how determined and sublimely fierce she appeared as she met his eyes. It was a look he hadn't seen from her before; The look of a bold and confident young woman, one quite becoming. "She made a huge mistake. I can't imagine anyone ever wanting to have an affair if _you_ were their husband." Just like that, the spell was broken. She mashed her lips together, her cheeks reddening as she glanced away again.

Red felt speechless as a tense silence broke out between them again. He was unsure what to say in response to her words. He opened his mouth then had to close it up again. Honestly, he did not feel that there was anything he could say as an appropriate response to Lizzy's words. The only response he considered appropriate and worthy was to dismiss it all and shrug it off with an anxious laugh.

"Thank you, Lizzy. That's incredibly... sweet of you," he managed awkwardly, patting the back of her hand. "Though, with what you've said, I don't necessarily believe that to be true."

He felt his face twist and contort with panic when she turned her hand palm-up, attempting to hold his, to interlace her fingers through his, but he brought his hand up to curl his fingers back around the steering wheel quickly instead, his palm sweaty. He really wished she would stop whatever the hell it was she was doing, especially when he had made a conscious decision to not get too close as to not complicate his friendship with Sam. It was far too hard already, and it seemed as if she was intentionally tempting him- dare he even think such a thing of her.

He found he was relieved by the time he signaled left and they had reached her school. As he found a suitable place to park and he switched off the ignition, words still were unable to form coherently as he smiled at her. He could not believe what she had just said. It was downright baffling.

Apparently he hadn't taken into consideration just how extreme her crush on him was.

"Well, here we are, at your school. Have a good day and be sure that you don't do anything I wouldn't do." Which wasn't a hell of a lot, he added mentally inside his head.

He noticed the way that, when she yanked off her seat belt, she leaned over slightly near him in the seat while gathering her dark hair in both hands, collecting it and pushing it to the other side of her face, exposing her glorious neck to him. Her head was tilted on an angle, the side of her cheek held high to him. He gathered that she was expecting him to kiss her goodbye again as he had yesterday, and it was both utterly terrifying and daunting, just what it was that he had created and unintentionally nurtured within her.

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye like you had yesterday in the car?" Elizabeth forced herself to speak, her throat tight, a smile playing along her lips. She was holding her breath, afraid to even so much as breathe as she waited, excitement thrumming within her for the moment she felt his lips on her skin again.

She sensed Kenneth's hesitation to before she heard the vinyl material of the car's seat give off a squeak as he moved. His breathing seemed to be all that she could hear from him inside the car, the way he exhaled and inhaled in shaky, long breaths.

But him kissing her cheek this morning was not as how it had been the day before. He pressed his warm, chapped, puckered lips to her cheek once, leaving them there for barely two seconds before he pulled back. He was purposefully holding back, distancing himself from her, and she could tell. She wondered if she had done something wrong, though she could not understand what.

If she had been largely braver than she was, Elizabeth might have done what she knew would make her feel like a real woman, like a woman in total control.

She would have made him kiss her- but on the lips this time. She might have even been the one instigating it, in leaning over the console and touching her lips to his herself. That would have really changed things then. That would have really made Kenneth see just what it was that she felt for him when she believed she could not properly express or find the right words to tell him on her own.

But she was not that brave. And, in that moment, when she looked at him as he rested an elbow on the door, not daring to glance in her direction, she hated that about herself. Despised it with a great passion, in fact. She wanted so badly for him to not see her as his friend's adopted daughter. She wanted him to see her as a young woman capable of being someone's girlfriend, partner, wife. _His_.

"Bye," she whispered in disappointment, opening the door and grabbing her bag to heft the strap onto her shoulder as she stood out onto the pavement. "Thanks for dropping me off again, Kenneth."

He merely waved two fingers in her direction as the side of his upper lip twitched, a bleak and glassy look to his eyes; making her cheeks burn and her heart feel swollen with shame, regret, and embarrassment. Why was it him that she had to like so much, she wondered despairingly as she slammed the door shut. Why couldn't it be someone other than her father's friend, a man who obviously only saw her as his best friend's daughter and not a woman of appeal.

She despised how old she was then and what he must perceive her as.

 _Another chapter here. :) I hope it wasn't bad and that, as usual, the two are still remaining in character somewhat. Again, my apologies if my English isn't so good or if I write the wrong words in certain places._


	8. Chapter 8

_**Hi again. I got some free time from working to write another chapter. I do hope you get enjoyment out of it, unless I've done a bad job with writing and remaining true to the characters which at times feels so. I hope my English is okay too. Thank you for inspiring me to write many times, I never dreamed for such kindness on here!**_

 _ **Chapter 8**_

Red knew something was wrong the instance he signaled right, giving way to an oncoming car before accelerating into the main street to where Sam and Lizzy lived.

He saw the flashing lights from a fair distance away, even although it wasn't dark and it was still in the early hours of the morning. The strobe lights seemed to reflect off the slick, wet road.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong at the house with Sam.

He pulled over to the side of the road, unbuckling his seat belt and abandoning Sam's car once the scene at the house was more comprehensible to him. He rushed towards the scene with unsteady legs, his breaths misting from the frigidity in the air, aghast at what he saw. An EMT van was parked in the driveway of the house. Two men were already unloading a stretcher from in the back of the van, preparing to take it inside to assist Sam.

It was in highly stressful times like this that Red felt as though he could use a cigarette. He patted down the left pocket of his trench coat, feeling the carton out. But when Sam finally appeared, strapped to the stretcher, he decided it could wait for a few minutes, at the very least. Finding out what was happening to his longest friend was far more important.

He felt as though an iron hand had stabbed through his stomach, reaching towards his heart, grasping it suffocatingly tight in its unrelenting grip as he rushed towards where they were wheeling his friend on the stretcher. Up closer, Red heard how strenuously Sam was breathing, one hand clutched around the left side of his chest, his skin as grey as parchment. The hair on his scalp was damp, his face glistening with a sheen of sweat.

"What's going on, Sam?" Red didn't know how he could muster up the courage to speak, but somehow he had managed. "Are you all right?"

"I... I'm fine, Ray. Don't look so scared. Just woke up with sharp chest pains and felt dizzy this morning, that's all. Thought I was near to having a heart attack so I called the ambulance. I'm sure it's nothing serious."

"Has this happened before? The chest pains?"

"It happened once before while Butterball was at school. I never ended up telling her about it though, for obvious reasons. Not sure if these jokers will want me to stay in the full night this time to run some tests and keep check on me."

"What are you going to do about Lizzy, Sam? What should I tell her?"

Sam sighed loudly, hissing in pain. "Just tell her to come to the hospital if you need to. But whatever you do, just promise me you won't tell her about this, about the... the chest pains. She'll panic and I don't want her to. Like I said, it's probably nothing. It's probably just a false alarm, that's all."

"Of course, Sam. I won't tell her."

Elizabeth stopped writing for a moment, rereading the paragraph she had just written for the introduction of her assignment. She found school so boring and couldn't wait until it was all truly over. It was only something that filled in her time, really.

Licking her lips, she scrawled out the word she had accidentally repeated. Then there came a knock on the classroom door, interrupting everyone from starting their assignments. When she brought her eyes up towards the door curiously as her teacher strode towards it to answer it, she felt a thrum of anxiety in her chest when she watched the woman from the reception desk look in her direction quickly as she said something in a low, hushed voice to her teacher.

Her teacher turned to look at Elizabeth as well, then with not wanting to disrupt any other students in the class by speaking while they were attempting to do the start of their assignments in peace and quiet, he made a gesture with his hand, beckoning her to stand from her desk.

She had never been called out of class early before and her eyebrows furrowed as she stood quickly, tucking in her chair. She reached down to grab her bag, shoving the strap on over her shoulder while collecting her textbooks all up.

It was only when she followed the kind woman from behind the reception desk at the front office that she suspected something may have been wrong. The woman must have recognized how worried she was, because she smiled at her reassuringly.

"Your not in trouble or anything like that, Elizabeth" the woman assured her softly. "A young man just came into the front office claiming to be a friend of your father's. He said something had happened at home and that you would need to leave school early today."

Elizabeth's brisk walking beside her faltered slightly at the woman's words. Was something wrong with her father? Was it Kenneth that had come to pick her up from school early?

When they reached the main entrance, Elizabeth's eyes darted around frantically, searching every corner of the room. She didn't find Kenneth anywhere.

"He just stepped outside," the woman explained, returning behind the reception desk. "You'll have to sign out for the day, honey." It was something the students were required to do when leaving the school premises early. She reached down beneath the desk, bringing out the large sign book. She opened it up, rifling through the pages to find the day's date, then she handed Elizabeth a pencil.

Elizabeth's fingers shook uncontrollably as she flexed them over the thin pencil, trying to write down her name and sign off with her signature as neatly as she possibly could. She could not escape the unnerving feeling that something terrible had happened. Why else would someone come to collect her, making her have to leave school earlier than usual?

When she pushed the door open and stood outside the building, a shiver rippled through her. It was still wet and rainy and she wished she had thought of bringing a jacket today. She glanced along the parking lot worriedly, hoping to catch sight of her father's cherished red Pontiac. When she did, Kenneth immediately came into view, and her heart leaped in her chest.

He was standing around near the back taillights with one hand tucked into the side pocket of his long black trench coat, his head ducked towards the ground as he paced back and forth. The repetitive motion made Elizabeth feel even more anxious, her heart racing. He was smoking, she realized, as she started strolling slowly towards where he was waiting. Smoke was rising into the air as he exhaled the cigarette smoke out through his mouth.

Elizabeth hated the habit of smoking with a vengeance, believing it to do far worse than good. She had been so relieved when her father quit smoking, fearing it would effect his health and do damage irreparably.

"Hi," she spoke apprehensively once she reached him. "What's going on? Or did you just do this on purpose because you wanted to break me out of school?"

Kenneth gave her a small, tight-lipped smile as he brought the cigarette up to his parted lips, inhaling it in again. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold air, his hair ruffled in the breeze. She noticed his forefinger and middle finger trembling in distress as he tore the cigarette away, puffing out smoke into the opposite direction from where she was standing.

"Actually as much as I would love nothing more than for that to be my main reason for being here, unfortunately that's not it." Kenneth was speaking the words softly to the tip of his shoes, his head still dropped low. He wouldn't look her directly in the eye. "Unfortunately I'm only just going to be the bearer of bad news. I have to take you to the hospital."

Her heart froze in her chest as dread lanced through her. Apparently she had been right, in her suspicions. Something had happened to her father. "Take me to the hospital?" she repeated in a strained murmur. "Why? What's wrong?"

He had not been prepared for this. He had not been prepared to have to tell Lizzy that her father had been taken to the hospital in the morning, that Sam had been suffering from chest pains when he woke. He found he could hardly bear to so much as peer up at her face, to see what was going on through that mind of hers.

"Is it about my father?" she questioned, and he heard the way her voice broke and shook when she mentioned the word father. "Is something wrong with my father? It's him that's in the hospital, isn't it?"

Red stared fixedly at a spot near his shoes on the damp gravel, suddenly wishing he had the power to vanish as a way to escape this situation entirely. It was all so horribly miserable and bleak. When he had decided to visit Sam, to see Lizzy now that she had gotten older, he hadn't been anticipating for this to happen where he would be forced into an incredibly difficult situation such as this.

"Tell me," she demanded unsteadily, stepping closer into his line of vision.

He saw how she lifted a hand, hesitating, before she reached up to lay her hand flat against the side of his cheek, stroking it with her soft, delicate fingers. His eyes snapped closed at her relaxing touch as he unconsciously leaned into it, the blood draining from his face. He could have had her touching him for years and years on end and even then, he wouldn't have gotten sick of it. There was something so unfathomably cathartic about the little girl that he had rescued from the house fire touching him now that she had grown to become a woman.

It occurred to Red yet again slowly of how wrong every part of this was, to Sam especially, and so deliberately he jerked his head away.

"Please. There's something wrong with my father, isn't there? Something that you know about and now your nervous to tell me?"

She was standing so close that she might as well have been kissing him. When he lifted the cigarette to press it into his lips again, to inhale in, he felt his arm brush against her shoulder. He had since passed feeling prudishly coy when someone invaded his personal space, but the fact that it was Lizzy doing it... it made the small hairs on the back of his neck stick up on end.

"You're right. Something _is_ wrong with your father." He squinted through the haze of cigarette smoke at a loose bit of asphalt on the ground near his shoe, his eyes stinging. "It's why he went to the hospital this morning. Sam, he... he thinks he may be required to stay there overnight."

"Why? Why would he be required to stay there overnight?"

"I'm not so sure the real reason to that myself, Lizzy." The way she was putting him on the spot made him agitated. He really wished she would stop. "I suppose you'll just have to wait to ask your father yourself once we get to the hospital and find the room that he is staying in, won't you?"

Sam's words came rushing back to him as he shifted his shoes, listening to the crunching noises the ground gave out beneath them. Already it felt as though his heart was inflating with guilt for keeping what he knew from her. It was a sensation he did not like feeling at all.

He felt so unbearably conflicted with wanting two different things; He wanted to tell Lizzy, to be able to reassure her that everything with Sam was going to turn out all right. Yet, contradicting that, he knew the pledge he had made to Sam. Red had assured Lizzy's father that he would not reveal too much to her. Sam hadn't wanted Lizzy to worry- as he considered it unnecessary.

But throughout the years of their friendship, Red had become familiar with the sort of man Sam was; Sam was a silent battler, and he preferred to battle his demons in private. If he found himself in any sort of trouble whether it be financial or otherwise, the very last thing Sam did was ask anybody for help. He was far too... proud to ask. He often much preferred to deal with his problems on his own.

And Red had sworn he wouldn't reveal anything important to Lizzy, anything that would worry her. It was difficult, because lying to her was beginning to feel like one of the most hardest things he would ever have to do. But it was important to, and he had sworn and made a promise to Sam. When a friendship has been established for as long as theirs had, you did not just turn your back on your friend and break your word. Loyalty and trust were high traits on Red's moral compass, and he was certainly not going to betray his good friend now, no matter how hard Lizzy insisted on otherwise.

He peered at the yellowed nicotine staining the end of the cigarette before he flicked the rest of it away to the ground carelessly with his thumb, his need for a cigarette to calm his nerves sated.

"He's my father," Lizzy went on incessantly in a low, strangled murmur. With excruciating difficulty, Red finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, his heart clenching in pity for her. He could tell that she was fixing to cry. Her blue eyes were wide, moisture brimming in them, her jaw tight, strands of her long hair blowing in the breeze. "I think I have a right to know what's going on with my very own father, don't I? If something is seriously wrong with him, then I... I deserve to be told, Kenneth."

He sighed loudly through his nose, rolling his jaw muscles side to side, indecision plaguing him. But he knew what was right, and what he should do. It mightn't have been right for her, but it was right nevertheless.

"And I can understand that. I can understand your need to know, as Sam's daughter. But I'm so, so terribly sorry, Lizzy. I can't tell you," he said regretfully, his voice tight, strained.

She was standing so close, her face so close to his as her eyes bore into his. He saw the quiet annoyance and fury that passed in them, the hurt, but despite that, he was not intimidated. Rarely few could intimidate him nowadays, and he much preferred to do the intimidating himself. He knew what was right, what was justified, in his mind.

"You have to understand that I've been close friends with Sam long before you were even a mere fetus in your mother's womb," he explained to her quietly but sharply. "I made a promise to the man when I saw him being taken away by the ambulance this morning that I wouldn't say anything. Sam wanted to spare you from all of this unnecessary worry, knowing that you would overthink it. So due to that, I'm certainly not going to go back on my promise to your father to tell you anything of what's happening to him now."

"Fine. Don't tell me what's really going on with my father then." She stepped back in aggravation, tears trickling down her cheeks. "I suppose I'll just find out from him at the hospital anyway."

"Good. Now that _that's_ over, let's get you into the car before you freeze to death otherwise you'll be the one checking into the hospital alongside your father as well for hypothermia," Red said dismissively, walking around to the opposite side of the car to hold the door open for her.

The drive towards the hospital was silent and tense. Lizzy said not a word to him as she sat slumped in the seat, dabbing at her eyelids now and then to hide her tears from him.

While Red could truly understand her frustrations and where they stemmed from, it could not be helped. It was not his right to say what was happening with Sam. It was not his choice to make on telling her about Sam's health. However, it became clear to him that Lizzy could not understand that, and he felt the anger radiating off her non-verbally like sparks.

He followed her inside the hospital reluctantly once he had locked the car securely in the visitors parking lot. Then he followed her to take the elevator up to the second floor to where Sam was, the anger still palpable from her. It was uneasy enough as it was, having to be inside a hospital building without Lizzy being angry at him. Hospitals were not something Red particularly liked; There was something disturbing about a building that held such sickness and death inside it.

The elevators opened on the second floor and Lizzy was off, walking hurriedly far ahead of him. She did not bother knocking at the door of the room where the nurse at the reception desk had informed her of where her father Sam would be in. She yanked open the doorknob, rushing in and deciding it best to give the two some proper privacy, Red shoved his hands inside his pockets as he sat down into one of the single chairs near the room in the corridor.

He grew quickly restless with just sitting there, bored with inactivity, helpless to do anything in order to make things right. He crossed one leg over the other, shaking his shoe around. Then he had to remove his hands out from in his coat pockets, sliding his palms and fingers back and forth over the heavy-duty cotton gabardine fabric on his trench coat.

After what seemed like over two hours of waiting, Lizzy finally emerged again slowly, pulling the door to Sam's room quietly closed before turning to face him again. Red felt a tight, squeezing anxious sensation in his chest when she looked at him.

"They say he'll probably have to stay overnight so that they can monitor him until he can see his doctor in the morning," she explained in a drained whisper of a voice, a tear trickling down her right cheek. "He had sharp shooting pains in his chest."

Red sat up spine straight in the chair, pretending to seem surprised though he already knew precisely what Sam had been going through. "I'm so sorry, Lizzy." It hardly seemed adequate, but he hoped it was enough to soothe her pain, at least slightly. "Is he going to be all right?"

She shrugged once, glancing down at the floor. "I... I'm not sure. I guess we won't really know until tomorrow with the doctors."

Red nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Knowing Sam, he has always been made of more sterner stuff than anyone else I've ever encountered. I'm sure he'll make it through, Lizzy." The particular way she was staring at him was unbearable, so Red shoved a hand inside his pocket, retrieving the car keys. "On that note, should we go get you home?"

She nodded silently and he stood from the chair.

They had only just reached halfway down the linoleum corridor when she spoke again uncertainly. "Can I... hug you?"

Red blanched as he looked at her, the corner of his upper lip twitching. She had successfully managed to shock him- an experience he did not feel all that often, though around her, he found the surprises to be continuous. First asking about his divorce to Carla, and now, asking for a hug. He hadn't expected her to ask such a thing.

"It's just that I... I really need for someone to hold me right now?"

For a second, he feared it would encourage her if he did embrace her. He had come to the dawning realization that she had developed some sort of teenage crush on him, a silly infatuation- and, if he had to be honest, he had feelings for her too, irresponsibly so. But then he decided there would be no foreseeable risk in it at all, and that he wouldn't mind a hug himself. She was only human, she was like everyone else when it came to these things. Grief had a strange way of effecting someone and obviously an outlet to her grief, was to seek out the nearest person available for physical contact and comfort.

"Of course, sweetheart," he agreed warmly after a moment of stunned silence, forcing what he hoped would be a comforting smile to her as he opened up his arms. Like a fish being reeled in by a rod, she came closer, slipping her arms around his waist, softening up against him like melted butter once he twined his arms around her.

It disgraced him how eager he felt to give in to her request, at how much he yearned to experience what it would feel like to hold Lizzy in his arms, to hold her against him. He wanted to inhale her in, to know what she smelled like up close, to feel her arms around him. Above all that, he wanted to hold her close and know that he was the one responsible for alleviating some of her pain.

But a part of him also had to admit that he was slightly scared that he would not be able to let her go afterwards, that he would lose total control, that he would have a slip in willpower and cross the line with her; something he could not easily afford to do.

"I can hold you for however long and for however as tight as you need, Lizzy. Whatever you need."

Whatever you need. Three words that had seemed harmless enough in intention. Yet Red had a peculiar feeling that later on that night, alone in the house together without Sam, that those three insignificant words would come back to bite him in the ass.

 _So here's another one. Pardon me if its very bad. I hope you are able to forgive me if so!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much for inspiring me. This is my first time really writing a scene like this, so I am so worried it is a terrible job!**

 **Chapter 9**

Red was sitting on the couch in the dark, watching the TV in the living room, flicking the channels over with the remote; the only source of lighting coming from the flickering pictures on the screen. Lizzy had went upstairs to have a shower, and after that, now that the tap had stopped running and the plumbing had stopped groaning through the walls of the house, he had assumed she had put herself to bed. He learned his mistake later when he heard it.

"You mind if I sit and watch TV with you for a bit?" Lizzy's husky voice gave him a start, and Red craned his neck over to look at her. The lighting was so dim that he could barely just see her standing by the doorway, her hands crossed over her chest.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping by now? You have school tomorrow, don't you?"

"I... I know, but I can't sleep. I keep thinking about dad being stuck in that hospital room."

He saw nothing wrong about her watching some mindless TV with him, so he shrugged wordlessly, turning back to the images flickering on the screen. She was almost eighteen, practically an adult. Surely she could decide what was a reasonable enough time to put herself to bed.

His view of the television was disrupted and obscured for a fleeting moment when Lizzy strode in front of him to sit next to him on the couch.

He hadn't meant to look, but he noticed straightaway when she passed in front of him that Lizzy was only wearing a sleeveless grey tank top and what seemed to be an extremely short pair of black boy-leg briefs. In his defense, it was hard not to notice. Anyone his age or otherwise would have. Why she hadn't bothered to put trousers on, especially around him, was a mystery- not that he minded the sight of her slender legs. She sank into the couch cushion right next to him, far too close for comfort as she did so, like he was a schoolboy she was canoodling with on the couch rather than a man more than half her age. A hiss of breath left his lips when he felt her bare shoulder and the entire length of her arm brush against his.

It grew incredibly harder to focus on what was playing on the TV after that, but Red tried with all his might, forcing his eyes not to stray in her direction.

Whether Lizzy had intended to do it or not, she brought both legs up onto the couch, resting her left foot on his kneecap, giving him what no doubt was a playful little nudge with her toes. He handed her the remote before splaying out both arms on the back of the couch out of fear of accidentally touching her when she let the side of her head droop onto his shoulder, resting it on him while she turned over the channel to find something she liked to watch.

He turned his head just the slightest fraction, staring down at the crown of her forehead. He could only just see her eyes, the way she blinked sleepily at the images dancing off the screen, absorbed in concentration.

He could smell her then, up close. She smelled faintly of lavender, perhaps from the shampoo. Her hair was still slightly damp from the shower she just had taken, and he could feel the wet strands soaking through the cotton of his shirt, yet getting wet was the very least of his concerns right now, he found.

It was sensory overload. It overwhelmed him tremendously; the smell of her wet hair combined with what her toes were doing to his knee.

He had to clear his throat quietly, a scratchy sensation suddenly forming as his eyes drifted to her foot as she curled her toes downward, prodding at his knee with her toenails through his jeans. While he had understood kinkiness and certain sexual proclivities people had in the bedroom, fetishes of the feet were not something he understood, something he felt baffled by. Until now.

There was something oddly appealing about her feet, her toes. The way her ankle glided down and arched, the way her toenails were painted a light pink. They were so feminine and sensual-looking somehow; as much as he supposed feet could be, in terms of sensuality.

A gentle laugh escaped her as she lifted her head against him, the side of her pale neck exposed to him, long and bare. He felt that terrible urge once again to trail that surface with his mouth. It was the TV; There was something on the TV she found humorous for some God forsaken reason. It occurred to him that he liked the sound of her laughter a bit too much. For him, it was as if the TV didn't exist. It may have well not been on. The voices on the TV were just a mere, muted droning noise in the background in comparison to her presence.

But this was fine, he began to chant inside his head compulsively. She was still just upset over Sam being in the hospital, and that was partly the main reason why she was snuggled up against him on the couch the way she was. She was upset and worried for Sam and naturally she craved the comfort of another human. It was nothing drastic, what they were doing. Sam surely wouldn't have minded it.

"I've always liked this show," Lizzy murmured without taking her eyes off the screen, tilting her head up again. He could just only spot her tongue peeking through her teeth as she laughed again.

Speaking felt next to impossible, but he tried. "Have you?"

"Yeah. Do you like it too?"

He brought his eyes back to the screen reluctantly. He had no idea what was even on or what was happening on this show that she apparently had liked so much. "I can't say I've ever actually watched this show before. In fact, to tell the truth, I don't think I have even watched an actual TV show in years."

She laughed again, but this time it was mostly due to what he said and not the show. "Just like you haven't driven a car," she said, in a voice barely audible. "So you haven't watched a TV show for a long time and you haven't driven a car either? Don't you need to drive to get to your job as an accountant?"

Red strove frantically for a good excuse. "I've only just retired from accounting. It wasn't the... right job for me, I found."

He wanted to speak, to change the subject onto something safer, something easier before she became too inquisitive and asked too many questions. He thought of his behavior this morning when he had pulled her out of school early. How upset and angry she was with him for withholding information from her... His thoughts stalled there. She seemed as though she had gotten over her anger, certainly enough to cuddle him on the couch. He knew there was no anger there anymore but still, he spoke.

"With what happened this morning... you were angry at me for withholding what was truly going on with your father? Are you still angry?"

His voice was soft with worry. She couldn't remember him ever speaking in this specific tone before. It was... heavenly. His words were a soft, mellowed rumble that surrounded her. She recalled what had happened this morning, and wondered if she did still appear angry with him. She definitely had been angry at the time, but now she thought she understood his reasons why.

"I admit I was angry with you for keeping what had happened with my father away from me. But not anymore," she answered, pulling her head back slightly so that she could meet his eyes. Her voice started match his easy, low tone and the exchange felt like it had turned into an existence of its own. "I think I understand now. Your friendship with my father is something very important to you. It's something that you clearly value? The friendship that you two have together?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Is my father going to be okay?" She knew he was determined not to tell her too much, and while she respected that, she also still tried to push it. "I heard him talking to you in the kitchen a couple of days ago about having tests done from his doctors appointment? What was that all about?"

"I'm not sure. Frankly, I truly can't say."

Seeing as her father was away and it was just them two in the house alone together, Elizabeth felt as though she wanted to take advantage. To not take advantage would seem like a missed opportunity. "Do you know what happened to me as a little girl?" she asked hesitantly, her fingers passing over her scar. "Do you know how my father came to have me? Did he ever... tell you that seeing as how close you two are?" She was fairly certain that her father had to have told him.

Red felt winded at how quickly their conversation had turned. She wanted to talk about the fire, and he shifted slightly on the couch to meet her eyes. "He told me a brief recount of the story, yes. I believe he called me the night you were given to him at his doorstep, terrified out of his mind over having to look after a young girl." Sam hadn't really needed to call him- he had been there, after all- but it was closest and realistic enough to the truth.

"And what did he tell you of that night exactly?" She wanted to see if her father had told Kenneth more than what she knew of the story. She wouldn't have put it past her father to contain certain details from her.

"Well, I may be wrong, but... the way Sam's version of the story went was that one night an old friend showed up on his doorstep, scared. The friend had told Sam that he was leaving town, that he was in danger. And also... that he needed someone to care for a little girl."

He paused for a moment, tonguing his cheek, thinking his next words over carefully. It was crucial that she not know that it was him who had turned up on Sam's doorstep that night, that it was him all along.

He reached down to rub and grip the side of her thigh with his hand, immediately regretting doing such an impulsive thing. Her skin felt too good beneath his fingers; so smooth and soft and warm. "As it turned out, that little girl had been _you_ , Lizzy." He smiled at her tightly, overcome with fondness and relief. Out of all the things he had done over the years, pulling her back from the flames and taking her to Sam had been one of the more positive ones. "There had been something of a... family dispute and a fire had broken out at the house, a fire in which you had very nearly died in. So Sam took you in and raised you as his own, ensuring that you were... safe and well taken care of. And that's all I know."

They were both silent for a long moment on the couch, Red reflecting on that night. He could still recount what had happened so vividly in his mind; Sometimes, he believed he could still smell the smoke, that he could still feel the suffocating heat of the flames hitting his back. Still hear the piercing, terrified wails she had made back then as a little girl ricocheting in his ears, as though it was happening all over again, as if they weren't safe and sound, sitting on the couch together.

"It was my father that took me to Sam," Lizzy finally spoke in tones so softly definite that he would not have had the heart to correct her and tell her otherwise, even if he had planned to. "My actual biological father was the old friend. It's really the only memory I have of him, of him... saving me that night." She met his eyes again, biting her bottom lip with her front teeth.

No, he would have told her if he could have, his heart swelling and aching in his chest with words that must be left unsaid. No, it wasn't your father, Lizzy. It was me, I was the old friend. I was there that night, and your father... he died in the fire. You killed him.

But he could not do that to her; he could not destroy and tarnish the one and only good memory she had left of her father. It would have seemed callous of him and cruel, somehow. It wasn't right. It was much better that he left her as she was, with that one belief of her biological father.

"I presume it _was_ your father that took you to Sam, yes," he agreed, his voice hoarse. "After all, I hardly think any father in their right mind would leave a daughter that they loved and cherished so much there to simply burn and perish in a fire. No doubt it _was_ your father that brought you to Sam that night." It was the hardest thing Red thought he had ever had to say, but it was better for her. He could see that she was so content to believe it was her father that had brought her to Sam that night, that he was... alive out there somewhere. He could not ruin that for her.

A silence passed between them where Elizabeth started watching her show again.

Despite being engaged in the TV show, one of Elizabeth's favorites, she became aware of how funny Kenneth's breathing started to become, particularly when she moved her foot around on his knee. It was quite loud and deep, interfering with her being able to properly listen to what the characters were saying on the show.

She moved her head up off his shoulder before looking at his face in the dark of the living room. His eyes were on her, glistening in the reflection of the TV. Maybe he was feeling sorry for her due to what happened when she was younger? But then she thought she saw his heavy-lidded eyes flit down to her lips as she licked them to get rid of their dryness, but she could not be sure. Was he thinking about kissing her now? She wondered with excitement sending her heart pacing furiously. Or was it just her wishing that he would?

She had to be a woman now. She had to act like a brave, young woman so that he actually realized what she felt for him. She was so frustrated with waiting for him to do something, like kiss her. For once, it occurred to her that she would have to be the one making the first move. But she found herself afraid; so very afraid of what his reaction might be and scared at the idea of having to face his rejection. But at this point, did that even matter?

She had heard somewhere that sometimes, if something was worth doing, then you had to take a risk in order to make it happen.

Seconds passed that seemed like days as he stared back at her, his eyes glistening with emotion. She had to do it, otherwise she would only come to regret it for the rest of her life. Even if it ended badly, even if he ended up spitting her out of his mouth to reel away in disgust... what did it matter, so long as she took a bold risk?

She twisted on the couch with her upper body, and from the moment she leaned in closer, all of her compulsive self-doubts and worries stopped entirely; urge had taken over and at last she had followed through.

Lizzy's lips touched his and Red felt as if someone had beat him around the skull, erasing any previous conscious thought or memory he had at the present moment.

While he had ascertained earlier that she had developed something of a flattering little crush on him, he was not expecting her to do this, to make a move. A surge of panic gusted through him as red flashing hazard lights went off in his head, warning him to act responsibly, to turn her down kindly. So this kind of thing happened all the time, though never to him; where a young woman found herself so foolishly infatuated with a man. The only troubling difference to the scenario was that her feelings were quite reciprocated, and he felt the same for her.

There was just something about her that he could not put a name on. Perhaps it had something partly to do with their connection from her childhood, he did not know.

He shouldn't be doing this, definitely not with his friend's adopted daughter and he knew that, yet still, he felt stunned with pleasure by her taking lead, knowing he would not have had the sheer strength and confidence to do so otherwise. His mind was telling him one thing, yet he was doing an entirely other; His lips puckered, pressed, and pushed against hers mindlessly.

Sam needn't know about any of this, he decided as Lizzy leaned into him, arching him backwards into the padded couch. This was perfectly fine.

Her position changed as she rose up, swinging her legs on both sides of him, straddling him as she faced him fully. Her TV show was since long forgotten about when Red accelerated the movements, his lips concentrating on the bottom of hers, sucking for a moment and then savoring it all. In turn, Lizzy lightly parted her lips, the upper grazing just below his nose. He could feel her lips hovering, her mouth open, and he waited a moment to feel the warmth of her breath release and then he took her gaping mouth as an invitation. His tongue slid slowly into her mouth, meeting her own, and he moaned in delight at the enchanting, slippery warmth of it all.

Despite how bad it was, giving in, and how... wrong it was to Sam, it felt so terribly good. It was similar to the relief of finally scratching an itch that had been increasing and increasing with ever more agonizing intensity with each passing day. At last, he was scratching that itch, gaining that relief, and that itch was Lizzy.

Elizabeth had been kissed before- by a young boy when she was around seven or eight at school. She had assumed she had a crush on him at the time, and they had kissed on the lips once behind the building, a kiss so quick and uncomfortable that afterwards both him and her had wiped their mouths furiously, making faces at each other in disgust. The poor quality of her first kiss experienced at that age had made her wonder if she would end up being sworn off kissing forever. That kiss had been quick and wet and sloppy. Now it was as though she were learning the true meaning of what a real, passionate kiss was, with Kenneth.

In the moments Kenneth's tongue slid into her mouth as she tasted his, she could think of little else. She had felt so heavy and weighed down earlier, as if little weights were attached to her arms and legs, her heart and her rib cage by string whenever she stressed about Sam being in the hospital while she was at home- but now she felt so much better. With the way Kenneth was kissing her; with all the experience of man his age, it was as if no one else in the world existed, as if those invisible weights were gone and she was set free. She did not imagine what her father would think if he knew what her and his close friend were doing on the couch. It was just Kenneth, and her.

She never once thought he would have returned her kisses, but he was. She almost didn't want to believe it was true.

As she began to feel more adventurous and confident, she started sliding her hands up and around the front of his shirt, around his torso and broad shoulders, before finally trailing them up higher into the thick strands of his light brown hair.

Any previous doubts and warnings inside of Red's head seemed to disappear, and it as if his lips were captive to Lizzy's own. His groin area swelled uncomfortably through his jeans under the weight of her body on him, and his hands became more restless and anxious as she increased tempo with her mouth while her hands and fingers massaged his scalp. He brought a hand up to caress her hair, then as it fell, he caressed her neck and shoulder eagerly on the way down, the other rising and hovering near her chest.

He couldn't help waiting for the precise moment when one of his actions became too much, too daring for her, imagining her stopping him and the whole entire dreadful thing that was happening, slapping his arms away. When this did not happen after each move he made he became even more dangerously aroused and astounded.

She should put an end to this, seeing as he obviously did not have the willpower to. She would stop it once it occurred to her how Sam would feel if he knew. Yet it became apparent that her father was not even a consideration in her mind; She did not push him away or anything of the sort.

When he moved one hand under her tank top, gliding his fingers eagerly up the smooth, taunt muscles of her belly, he thought that would be it then. It would be enough and she would slap him away. Yet it did not happen. Not even when it dawned onto him that she was not wearing a bra when his hand crossed the softness of her breasts, fondling and squeezing the supple mass of each one in a handful, and he groaned audibly against her mouth.

When Elizabeth heard that she was taken to an entirely new level. It was the biggest arousal she had ever felt, due to that strictly male utterance of passion. She had made Kenneth make that sound. She felt so powerful and like a real woman then; One that had power over him, sensuality and effect. She was a woman embracing her femininity, and the sound he had made was because of her body and hers alone.

She captured his tongue with her teeth, and when he arched his head back her lips sucked against its length, drawing it completely out of his mouth until she released it and leaned back. What she was doing was so sensual and effecting in its intention that Red felt as though his head was spinning as he moaned again. The tightness and swelling in his groin was unbearable through his jeans and he involuntarily thrust his lower body upwards between her legs with a low grunt, needing friction and some form of relief more than ever before.

This would be it, he told himself. The last, fatal line that she could not allow him to cross. Surely she wouldn't have allowed them to have sex, would she? He relied solely on this moment, on Lizzy rebutting him.

He was beyond relieved when Lizzy arched her head back, stopping their kissing with the movement, her hands sliding out of his hair and around the front of his shirt. She slipped a hand beneath the collar of his shirt, her fingers moving through his chest hair, rubbing him down. Both of their breathing was heavy and labored, and when she met his eyes, she licked her lips slowly, an entirely different Lizzy seeming to have taken her over. But they had passed that fatal solid line where any denial of feelings or his attraction to her of any kind would have only been relatively ridiculous.

"We... we shouldn't continue with this, Lizzy." The words stumbled out of his mouth with no firmness or resolve in the tone whatsoever. "I... I fear that if we do, you'll feel it a terrible mistake."

He should leave and remove himself from this situation entirely before it was far too late, his frantic thoughts told him as Lizzy ignored his objections, leaning in to start kissing him again hungrily. He should find the nearest bar in Nebraska and search for a woman- and any woman would do at this point- a woman to bed for the night, anyone that was _not_ Lizzy, anyone that was _not_ Sam's daughter and the little girl from the house fire. He was so weak minded, in letting the temptation to be with her grasp hold of him so tightly. He should not have allowed this to happen. He was the adult here in this situation and yet, he had a moment of sheer weakness. One that should never have happened in the first place.

Yet there was not a chance in the slightest of that happening, and he grew aware of that the instance he softened into her kisses, puckering his lips against hers again, matching their desperate rhythm as their foreheads rested against each other's. He felt as if he was at the fire again, bristling with desire, burning up. With such shame and arousal-filled torment he acknowledged that even if he had the strength to remove himself out of this situation to try and find a willing participant in bed tonight, that woman would not have come even remotely close to Lizzy. He wanted her, more than he thought he had ever wanted anything before in his entire life.

What would come inevitably next was more than understood. Red leaned into her, pushing both of their bodies forward off the couch as he made to stand. The weight of her body was hardly what he considered burdensome in the slightest, but still, he reached down and grasped both hands around the back of her bare thighs to support her as he rose to his full height. The muscles in his own arms strained to hold her tight as he walked while her arms delicately wrapped around his neck, their lips still intermingled and smacking together. As he stopped kissing her to see where he was going, resting his chin against her hairline as he stepped up the stairs, their breathing synchronized in harsh, needy gasps.

Once Red managed to get her into the guest bedroom, he jammed the side of his back into the doorknob by mischance as he brushed against it, muttering out a low oath as she clung to him with her body, her lips pressing short, soft kisses around his throat.

It was happening, and they had reached that fatal point of no return. And good heavens, may Sam forgive him for this all-too-enticing sin.

 _Hope this one was passable and still in character despite the content. Next chapter will be M likely for obvious reasoning. Also, I apologies for any mistakes or incorrect word in places._


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow, I am so thankful for your kind reviews and encouragement. I had to write this chapter while drinking a glass of wine as I got very nervous with it, my first time writing such a thing! Hoping it isn't poor and thank you for inspiring me! Please be soft on me with this chapter I am very anxious about it!**

* * *

 **Chapter 10 (M rating)**

Elizabeth clung to Kenneth's body as he carried her upstairs into the spare room they used for him to stay in as a guest. After the few steps it took for him to reach the bed, she felt a lack of gravity; a sensation of falling. His hold on her was strong and completely steady, the muscles in his forearms straining as he bent down, her back hitting the soft mattress of the bed with a slight bounce.

Things were moving fast yet Elizabeth knew with no doubts whatsoever that there was no way else she would have preferred this to go. They had to move fast otherwise her doubts and nerves would overcome her. The pace of her breathing made her feel as though they had to continue quickly with it, to keep up with all that they had created downstairs. She was nervous, as she hadn't experienced what it was like to be with a man before, to have sex and be so intimate, but she thought for that her nerves were vindicated.

In truth, there was not anyone else Elizabeth believed she would have wanted to experience this- her first time- with. Kenneth was older than her, which consequently made him more experienced and knowledgeable on what to do no doubt. Elizabeth had read somewhere that an older man made an exceptional partner in bed; that they oozed of patience and were considered more attentive and passionate lovers than the young men her own age. And, because of that, she found herself eager to test and see if that were true, with Kenneth.

It all still felt as though it wasn't real. Nothing about it did. As vivid as it was, it felt like a dream, a fantasy, something erotic she had conjured up in her head. She could hardly understand what was happening or believe that him- a man so fascinating and handsome and older as he was- was actually submitting to her. She could hardly believe how she got there, that she had managed to be kissing him, upon the bed with him over her on the mattress, his knees on either side of her, his hands cradling her face and her hair as he planted hot, moist, open mouthed kisses on her.

Red found his desperate lack of control yet sense of awareness foreign yet curious. To be in any kind of embrace with Lizzy, even one such as this, felt like an honor, something of high privilege. To think that he would be doing this with her at all, when he- in his perspective- was nothing more than an old man, someone she would have found unappealing and unfit compared to all the other boys her own age at school, was baffling. It felt like a blessing he could not understand.

There was a lot of pressure on him on this moment, and he became aware of that more than ever. Lizzy expected him to take charge, to be the older, wiser man in control, yet when he felt her arms slide around his back and her fingers yanking the ends of his shirt out from where it was tucked in at his jeans, he felt disastrously less than that. His tongue darted in and out of her hot mouth and as he used his hand to guide her head gently to the side, he started kissing around that throat of hers that he had enjoyed the sight of so much.

He almost felt like a young boy fumbling around in inexperience when her warm, soft hands brushed up along the curvature of his spine underneath the shirt. He felt his muscles ripple uncontrollably beneath her touch as a moan left his throat, deep and sonorous. How she made him feel just by merely touching him, how she unknowingly cut him down to size... it was terrifying.

The second Kenneth's lips had moved away from hers to start nibbling and sucking on her throat while she rested her fingers splayed on the skin of his upper back, she noticed him trying to give attention to something out of her eyesight, his legs off her and jerking. He was attempting to remove his shoes, using his toes and heels. She fell back against the pillows as realization dramatically sunk in that, she, too, was still clothed in her underwear and tank top.

He was still wearing his shoes. Red's obliviousness to such a detail in the heat of the moment made him feel awkward and embarrassed. He was never usually this sloppy and absent-minded when it came to being with a woman, yet something about being with Lizzy made him feel otherwise. Now, with Lizzy, he was anxious not only of himself, of performing well and meeting any expectations she undoubtedly would have, but also for her judgement of his actions.

He was older and no doubt, in her eyes, she expected him to know precisely what he was doing, to do things with such ease and assertiveness, and he berated himself for that.

One simple thing. There was one simple, fairly basic thing he had to do, and he had completely forgotten it, in removing his shoes. Sitting up and pulling his mouth away from her, he began to fumble with his shoes again, tossing laces aside as fast as humanly possible. He could still feel the warm remnants of her skin on his lips, and he licked them as finally his shoes fell to the floor, bouncing halfway under the bed. Then he hastily pulled off his socks, letting them fall to the ground carelessly as well.

Now that such a small thing had been taken care of, he turned back to where Lizzy was laying on the bed, blinking slowly while watching all his movements. He became aware of his own racing heartbeat when she swallowed audibly, the pale muscles in her throat knotting together and twitching. In that moment, he understood and appreciated that she was no doubt more nervous than him.

No longer feeling as nervous and empowered by Lizzy's plain anxiety, he moved over her again on the mattress, placing his knees on either side of her bare legs as he cupped her face between his hands again. As he bent down to kiss her, he felt her hands come up to hold both sides of his face as well, her fingers trembling. She kissed him back while stroking his cheeks and around his jaw gently as if she believed him to be a sexy, desirable man despite his age and second guessing of himself, and he felt himself warm over to the point of relaxing entirely. If anyone had reason to be nervous it was she and he was the one expected to soothe her and calm her.

While they kissed again, Lizzy's hands fell from his face and then were felt upon his chest. Keeping one hand on her face, he dropped the other, feeling up and down one of her bare legs, her hip.

Red almost moaned into her mouth yet again when he felt her starting to pull and pluck at the buttons on his shirt with her fingers, pulling it undone. Despite how confident he was growing again in his abilities as their tongues worked together, he still felt a moment of sheer panic when he felt his shirt fall undone completely. He started panicking when Lizzy slid her hands across his chest. Though pleasurable, she would notice the quite obvious scar on the back of his right shoulder. He found himself worried that she would see it and immediately come to understanding how he had gotten it, or at the very least, ask her barrage of questions.

It was still sensitive to the touch, to the humidity and frigidity of the seasons even after all these years. Certain fabrics on the shirts that he chose to wear had a tendency to rub against it, to irritate it, yet it was a small price to pay for the sake of saving a child's life all those years before- one of the only hazardous deeds he considered the best he had ever done, in getting too close to the flames in order to save a little girl's life.

How ironic it was that the little girl he had saved was now this girl, now fully grown into a beautiful and wholly desirable young woman; One that wanted him, and was beneath him now, touching him as she undressed him.

He felt her hands brush against the flesh of his shoulders as she slipped through the sleeves of his shirt and pushed them lightly off his shoulders. Their lips momentarily ceased contact as she leaned back on the pillow to look at him, her hands sweeping down across his arms. When the fabric hung and gathered at his wrists, Red took over, pulling both his arms out of the sleeves and tossing it aside.

Lizzy slid her hands leisurely down his chest again, and he watched as her blue eyes followed the movement. As she brushed her hands to where his jeans began around his hips and pelvis, he watched her lick her lips slowly. Though still physically under her touch, his mind was racing. What did she think of him? Did he pale in comparison to the boys her age at school? Would she ask about the scar? He was wrought with insecurities; a feeling he felt completely alien and uncomfortable with.

Elizabeth felt her face grow hotter and hotter as she observed Kenneth without his shirt on. Without his shirt on, he was even more glorious than she had expected, though she still felt as if this was a wicked fantasy in her mind. Shirtless, he was equally as attractive as he was intimidating. Defining areas of his body were tight and toned though at the same time, he was meaty in a way she found very attractive, his complexion warm and tan. She gained so much pleasure out of seeing him without a shirt on, at how masculine he looked, particularly compared to other boys at her school who were so immature and scrawny, yet along with that pleasure was nerves, as she knew soon it would be her turn to undress and expose herself to him. She hadn't ever let any male see her body before, and she was insecure about that.

When he embraced her again she felt relieved. Her arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his skin underneath her, even under her chin as she rested it against his shoulder. She realized she should probably tell him about how inexperienced she was, but she was hesitant to. She feared his judgment, that Kenneth would laugh at her. That it would turn him off her, even.

"I should probably tell you that I... I don't know much," she confessed, startled by how hoarse her voice sounded. She didn't sound very much like herself at all, though she suspected it was her trepidation and arousal for him that was the contributing factor to that.

"Then you needn't worry, Lizzy. I know quite a lot." Her face was resting close to his throat, and her eyes fluttered shut at the pleasurable feeling it gave her when his voice seemed to reverberate through her, baritone and heavenly with non-judgmental understanding.

"I've never exactly done this before so I... I'll probably only end up disappointing you," she whispered apprehensively in a strained, high voice before she could stop herself. Talking about her own insecurities seemed to help ease them.

Kenneth did not say anything in response to her words, but he stroked his nose against her forehead. When his parted lips brushed against her ear, her eyes closed again at the pleasurable feelings endlessly coursing through her body. He made her feel so warm, so warm and comfortable.

"If you've changed your mind for any reason at all, then you'll tell me, won't you, sweetheart?" At heart, he hoped Lizzy would say that she had changed her mind. It was a real and honest worry there that she would inevitably come to regret what they would do, and he wanted her to be perfectly certain before they got started.

It felt wrong to Red, in a sense, to do this with her when she did not even know his actual name or who he was in truth; that he had been present on the night the fire had broken out at her house, that he had been the one to take her to Sam rather than her biological father.

He contemplated when he pressed a kiss into her cheek on whether he ought to tell her now. It was eating away at him at that moment, but somewhere inside he was telling himself that everything would still work out fine and that it was not crucial that she know. It wasn't important that she knew. It would have only served to complicate everything even more.

Elizabeth stiffened and her eyes opened when she felt his hands move up her back, brushing along her spine, rubbing his palms against her bare skin. Then she felt him take one hand out from beneath her tank top, and she felt the material of it stretch when he pulled at it. He wanted her to take off her shirt, she realized with a sudden hammering heart. He wanted her to take off her tank top and she was not even wearing a bra. Her breasts would be completely exposed to him and, if Elizabeth had to be honest, her breasts were not exactly her favorite body part.

The anxiety in her increased when Elizabeth extricated her arms from around his shoulders, shuffling back on the mattress. She did not dare look at his face when she grabbed the bottom of her tank top, lifting it up and pulling it over her head. She reminded herself that being nervous and insecure of herself was natural due to it being her first time. But she also reminded herself that Kenneth was a very good man. He was a longtime friend of her fathers, and that meant he was safe and good if her father considered him worthy of being a friend. If she could trust anyone, it was him.

She barely gave him three seconds to admire her before she was covering her chest up with her arms. To him, there was nothing quite as charming as a young woman's endless sense of modesty and coyness about her body.

"I know I'm not anything all that special," she said with a self-deprecating laugh, a blush spreading across her cheeks and reddening her chest as she avoided looking at him.

He felt a sudden tightness in his chest at her words, a surge of anger that she dared to speak such a negative thing about herself. She could not have been more wrong if she tried.

"Oh, that's quite on the contrary," he disagreed, his voice in a different, rougher octave than she had heard it ever go before. "Truth be told, Lizzy, I happen to think that you are _very_ special."

Though Elizabeth felt skeptical over what Kenneth said, she grew less self-conscious when he moved closer towards her on the mattress with his knees. His lips found the nape of her neck and her shoulders, his mouth gliding along her skin with open-mouthed, teeth-nibbling reverential-feeling kisses that made her skin feel as if she were standing near an open flame, bristling with heat. The immediate arousal she felt over the sensuality of his kisses were unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Though he was still kissing around her shoulders and along her throat, Elizabeth was aware that Kenneth had begun tugging at something beneath him as he pressed the upper half of his body into her, his chest hair rubbing on her.

The zipper and button. He had undone his jeans and he was removing them, she realized.

When he moved half off the bed to pull them off, she got a glimpse of that erect organ that made him a man and the back of his muscular, strong thighs as he pulled his jeans down, kicking them free at the ankles hastily. She held her breath, retracting her head upward and away from the personal sight. She hadn't seen a man naked before, not in front of her at the least. She was not quite sure what she had expected. There was still want there at the sight of him, all of him, but a strange and different form of it; one she had never known or experienced for a man before.

"Lie down on your back, Lizzy," Kenneth spoke in a rough but tender voice, taking charge. "Take a deep breath in and then let it all out."

Elizabeth breathed deeply several times before she leaned back onto the mattress, linking her fingers together as she rested her hands on her midsection. She felt tense all over, her muscles rigid. She tried to relax her shoulders and roll them out of their stiff position when the mattress lurched as he moved over her, only they would not obey. She knew she was breathing deep and shakily when Kenneth bent his head to press his mouth on her left shoulder. When he lifted his head to peer into her eyes, she felt as though her heart was screaming inside her chest with overwhelming feeling when he smiled at her; it was a smile that seemed so affectionate and sympathetic that her heart burst.

"I know this must be startling for you, Lizzy, but... trust in me when I say that you are going to be just fine." His mellowed voice flowed over her pleasantly, and she felt her muscles slacken gradually from their rigid posture with a few more deep breaths in. He was right, and he knew perfectly well what he was doing. He would make sure she found the experience to be the most enjoyable time that he could.

Even then, she could not find herself confident enough to meet his gaze when he was completely exposed to her the way he was, all masculine male parts of him.

"It may hurt a little the first time, as I've frequently heard it does for a woman. But after that, I'm sure, it will become more pleasurable and easier."

She knew she would feel more at ease if they kissed again for a while, but it was clear to her that Kenneth had other intentions. He wanted to explore her body, and it was apparent to her when he began kissing her, everywhere his lips could possibly reach. As she focused on nothing else but the sensations he was giving her, her nerves became not much an issue. Lying on the bed the way she was, she could only see the top of Kenneth's head and the arched, taunt shoulders as he moved beneath her, excruciatingly slow. He kissed along the length of her arms, nuzzling his chin into her flesh, making her feel the slight scratch of stubble on his chin. Then as he journeyed lower and lower, her nerves had been replaced and all she knew was want and need.

"You're so mouthwatering, Lizzy," he told her, almost rasping against her skin. She could feel his hands roaming down her legs, stroking, the open air in the guest bedroom and his tantalizing kisses and nuzzles drawing light, pleasurable goosebumps to rise across her skin. "Absolutely exquisite, sweetheart."

He spoke in powerful whispers that made her heart swell in appreciation of hearing such things from him. She did not believe what he was telling her exactly, but she understood that he was more so doing it to reassure her and soften any insecurities she had of her body.

As his head descended lower, a gasp left Elizabeth's mouth in shock as his chin suddenly stroked and nuzzled her through the light fabric of her boy-leg shorts. A burst of heat and moisture gathered due to the friction of his chin, though she was embarrassed to wonder if Kenneth noticed or not. He made an attractive deep, humming noise in his throat as his chin rubbed against her in her intimate place through the thin fabric one final time, and then she felt his thumbs hook and curl under the elastic of her underwear. She did not say anything to stop him. Elizabeth accepted what was meant to happen, and she raised her pelvis slightly, assisting Kenneth as he dragged her underwear down past her knees, the material bunching around her ankles.

As he started kissing her again, she became aware of his mouth more than ever, the air in the room making her shiver at her complete body exposure. As his lips started trailing around the crease of her inner thighs, even letting his tongue come out to trail hot, moist lines, her midsection quivered when suddenly, his tongue was felt somewhere else instead between her legs.

"Kenneth..." she got out anxiously, attempting to arch up off the bed and not getting very far in her attempt. She could only see the top of his head moving, his hair, as he remained between her legs. He hummed, deep in his thorax, sending thrilling vibrations through the most intimate part of her. She fought the urge to clench her legs shut as she reached down, grasping the sheet in a tight handful, clawing with her fingernails as a way to stop any movement. "Kenneth, you... you don't have to..." She thought she saw his shoulders tense slightly when she called him by his name, though Elizabeth did not know what that was all about.

All she knew was that she could not believe what he was doing to her, but it was unlike anything she had felt before in her entire life. It was above and beyond pleasure, it was ecstasy. Shards of rapture jolted her continuously as he used his hot tongue on her, separating her apart more with his fingers, licking and swirling, to the point where she did not think she ever wanted it to end, though she was embarrassed that he was doing it to her.

"Red." He stopped his ministrations for one cruel moment to arch his head, looking up at her, his tone snappish. It made Elizabeth wonder if she had done something wrong all of a sudden. "If you're going to say my name at all while I fuck you with my tongue, then you may as well do it right and call me Red."

He felt a sharp sting of possessiveness in his gut that made him want to hear her say his name, not a name that bore no similarity to his real name whatsoever. He was greedy that way. He wanted to hear her cry his name in pleasure- perhaps, not his real name, but his nickname at the very least. He felt it was what he deserved, and he had no qualms about being selfish with being direct about what he wanted.

"Red?" Elizabeth questioned in a confused breath, her chest heaving. She did not understand that, if his name was Kenneth, why he would want her to call him Red.

 _So this is much a teaser for next chapter where they do the actual real thing. :P Hope you enjoyed this, and thank you for your kindness and for being such an inspiration in making me write! As expected, the rating will change as of now to M. I am so embarrassed for writing this if bad._


	11. Chapter 11

_Thank you so much for inspiring me and being so nice! It means so much, that kindness._

 _ **Chapter 11 [M]**_

"Red? Why Red?"

The way she said it, it was like music to his ears. Lizzy calling him by that dreadful fake name had begun to annoy him; It had begun to turn into something grating. Had she continued to call him that name while they resumed with what they were doing, he thought it was almost enough to destroy any arousal he had felt for good.

It was up there with the mere thought of other hugely unpleasant things, such as prison; federal agents, and being strangled by a pair of stockings. Most of all, it was the fact that it reminded him that she were under the impression that Kenneth Rathers was going to be making love to her. It would not have been him that was taking her higher with carnal sensations; To her, it was Kenneth, and Kenneth Rathers did not even truly exist.

"I thought your name was Kenneth?"

Red shut his eyes, disgustingly distracted, as he lowered his head to rest his forehead against her groin for a moment. He begged himself to pull it together. Why did he have to go and ruin it now, in making such a colossal mistake out of everything when things were just starting to move along perfectly? Now she was questioning him on it, and he did not have a logical answer ready. He felt far too preoccupied to even think straight; When he arched up to look at Lizzy again, he wet his lips with his tongue, tasting her on him; on his mouth, tongue, _everywhere._ She was _so close_ to being ready, the beginnings of cunnilingus lubricating her wonderfully, and she tasted similar to that of an exotic gourmet dish.

"And it is," he said quickly, hoping to amend his careless slip-up. "Kenneth _is_ my name, Lizzy. But Red is just... something that I prefer to be called. A nickname, if you will."

He felt as if he was falling deeper and deeper into the rabbit's hole, but he was starting to feel better when he stared at her; observing the way she was laid back on the pillow, her dark hair sprawled out around her, her chest rising and falling with anxious, flustered breaths as she tried to regain her equilibrium from what he had just been doing to her as a little side dish of foreplay to ease her nerves.

This time, she did not bother covering her breasts from him; her nipples were erect and he caught that quite plainly, though he was not sure whether it was from arousal, the chill in the room at being undressed, or a combination of both that was doing it to her. All he knew, was that she looked absolutely stunning and similarly sensuous. Already, her face was positively radiant and glowing with a thin sheen of sweat.

Beneath him, Lizzy's legs moved, inviting him over as she spread them apart slightly.

He understood what she meant by it then, that she was ready and that she was still, astoundingly enough, an all too willing participant with him. A part of him secretly still yearned for her to say no, to draw the line there and then to put it all to a stop.

As he moved towards her on the bed with his knees, Red heard his own breath become shallow. He watched her facial expression as she brought her legs closed slightly around him, her knees giving the bare flesh of his hips a mild squeeze, he noticed how very much so dilated her pupils were, overriding the blue of her irises. Indeed, she was ready, and as he positioned his hands on either side of her on the mattress, just inches near her shoulders, he felt her begin to shake as he brought himself over her and their bodies touched.

Red felt the muscles in his forearms strain and stretch as he kept himself above her, careful not to rest all of his weight onto her. His stomach brushed against hers, their thighs, hips, ankles. He watched the demure muscles in her throat twitch, a shadow of apprehension coming across her face.

Red held his breath as he stared at her face, his body starting to shake as he held back, restraining himself with all his might. He heard Lizzy gulp audibly as she clenched her eyes shut, blocking everything out. Her breathing was loud and unsteady- the only thing to be heard in the room. He felt so terrible then for what he was inevitably about to do to her, what he was about to put her through. He had spared her life that fateful night in saving her from the fire, although he had not been nearly as quick enough as he could have been in order to prevent her hand from getting burnt, and yet, here he was, about to inflict physical pain and anguish onto her.

But it was an utterly unavoidable and natural pain, he reasoned with himself. It was a necessary pain and after a few seconds, that pain would be over, no doubt.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he breathed apologetically, his voice taking on a guttural timbre. Clearing his throat choppily he tried again, wincing at the inevitable pain she must be feeling, when he pushed his way inside of her, gently, slowly, "It'll just be the most... fleeting..." The words died in his throat as an uncontrollable thick grunt left him at the glorious warmth, the tightness of her. Just as he had predicted, his bout of cunnilingus had seemed to have done the trick. She felt slick, slick and ready for him, though the way Lizzy actually felt was probably another thing entirely.

Elizabeth had done her best to try and feel relaxed, yet nothing had prepared her for how it felt for Kenneth to be inside her, penetrating her. Though she was not sure what she was expecting exactly, she hadn't counted on it feeling so invasive, as if he was stretching her. She forced her eyes open to glance up at him, realizing their bodies were one. There was a slightest bit of moisture welling from out of the comer of her eyes. The moment was really a shock for her, despite how attentive and gentle he was being. When she glanced up at Kenneth's face, she did not think anything could be all the more intimate, staring into each other's eyes while he was inside her. It was not something she had experienced before.

She could hardly bring herself to feel even a little embarrassed over her emotional state when the tears started drooping down her cheeks. It wasn't so much the pain that was doing it to her, that slight dull sting. It was more so how overwhelming the situation was. It felt wrought with emotion, with sensation. She could feel him everywhere, all on her skin. She could see that it was taking him everything he was worth to be still and patient, his shoulders shaking. As he lowered himself ever so slowly on top of her on the mattress, Kenneth brought his hand up, his knuckles brushing along her wet cheeks.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice sounding strained and hoarse, as though he could not quite catch his breath. "If it's becoming too much for you, then I don't expect you to-"

"No," she forced herself to speak, her voice shaky yet decisive. "Please, Kenn- Red. I...I want this."

"You sure?" His face was so close to hers, that it was almost inaudible.

He had to be sure that this was something that she wanted, that she would not come to have any regrets the morning later. As for himself, he was fairly confident that he was bound to have plenty of them, though it was something he could live with. But if Lizzy had come to regret this... if she had second thoughts and resented him come tomorrow morning... Red did not feel as though he could have tolerated it, if she had. Slowly, Lizzy nodded, her eyes fluttering downward heavily, more tears clinging to her dark eyelashes, but that would simply not do.

"Lizzy, look at me," he said, and then to soften the unintentional rough edge to his voice, "Please."

He was in control, Elizabeth at his mercy. When he asked her to look at him, she did so naturally but also little cautiously. Above her, he looked intently down at her, his head slightly angled to the side, his lips parted as he breathed shallowly. The instant her eyes met his, she found she now could not look away. There was such startling tenderness and softness in his expression for her that it took her breath away, that someone could possibly even begin to look at her like that.

Though it was hard, Elizabeth managed a small smile. She reached up and touched his cheek, he leaning into her palm as he closed his eyes tight, and then she brushed her fingers through the side of his hair until she reached the nape of his warm neck, gripping it with her fingers.

Slowly, guided by Kenneth, their bodies began a paced movement.

"Kiss me," she rasped, knowing it would make her feel better.

Kenneth obeyed quickly, their mouths moving in unison with the slow sliding of their bodies. This lasted for quite some time until both Elizabeth and Red himself felt breathing had become too suffocated and difficult while kissing, and as their lips parted, moans Elizabeth did not even know she could make before were left from her breath, circling the room. A low noise left Kenneth, almost like a growl, and she never knew a man could make such attractive sounds before.

The stinging and invasive feelings gradually began to leave Elizabeth and she began to feel more accustomed to him every time Kenneth slowly pulled back a fraction, only to thrust into her again. Soon, overcoming those foreign and intrusive feelings, were the most amazing sensations of exhilaration and excitement. Her fingers were still wrapped around the nape of his neck tightly, slippery with sweat, while she moved her other hand greedily to grip his hip, her fingers digging into the mounds of his flesh, clinging to him as he moved, each thrust he made making the feelings inside of her all the more intense. An unknown, limitless amount of time passed. Elizabeth's body began to tense, overcome with a blinding sensational orgasm that suddenly erupted, plummeted, consumed, numbed.

"Christ, Lizzy," Kenneth whispered in a shallow breath as he found his own release seconds later, his voice sounding different, and she looked up into his eyes, noting his expression.

She found herself watching his face intently, captivated. It made her feel all sorts of exhilarated when she watched him unravel, shocked that something she was participating in had such power to make Kenneth lose control and be affected in such a way that he was. It felt so shocking to her that he was unraveling himself in such an exposed, personal way to her. He groaned throatily, his face twisting in ecstasy as he drove into her one last time, then she felt the immediate loss of him inside her as he withdrew from inside of her quickly, falling back onto the sheets.

Elizabeth realized how much she was still shaking, how exhausted she felt.

No conscious pattern of thought seemed able to pass in her mind coherently. She felt stunned by the experience, yet also slightly sad for some reason she did not fully understand. It was not due to anything Kenneth had done, and she knew that. Mainly it was overwhelming, everything she seemed to feel all at once. She knew she would never be able to forget this. She would not forget the way Kenneth's tongue tasted, the way he felt inside of her. Her first time. Her first time experiencing sex with somebody, and it was with him.

She felt her face flame with heat when Kenneth turned on his side, propped up on his elbow. Both of them were equally as naked as each other but she did not seem to mind that. She couldn't seem to bring herself to care that she was completely exposed and bare to him right now. They were silent, laying comfortable on the sheets until both of them regained their breath properly and Kenneth spoke.

"How was that for you?" Kenneth asked, a concern in his voice that made her feel warm inside. "How did you find that? Did you feel it hurt more than what you were expecting?"

It took Elizabeth a long moment to find the proper words to describe it. What they had done, what she had just experienced and shared with him... there were no words for it. "It actually didn't hurt as much as I thought it would have," she admitted hesitantly, staring up at the ceiling. "People at school- girls particularly- they...they make such a big deal about it hurting, the first time. Like your... your hymen breaking. It didn't hurt that much at all."

"Then I'm glad." Kenneth placed his rough hand on her stomach, rubbing up and down. It made her stomach muscles clench and spasm.

"You could probably tell," she said shyly. "You could probably easily tell that I hadn't done it before."

"Not at all. If you hadn't told me, I don't believe I would have actually really known."

"Was that okay for you?" The words left her mouth nervously before she could stop herself. She knew it was probably silly of her, but she felt worried that she was lacking so much more than any other women he had no doubt slept with. His ex-wife Carla, especially. "I mean, was I... okay? Or... on par with other women you've slept with at least?"

Red found he had to hesitate at her words. What she was asking of him, it was unexpected. He hadn't once thought to consider that she would feel inadequate or worried, thinking other women to be in terms of competition. He thought about all the countless women he had slept with over the years; many of them far different than the last. To compare or to judge a woman's sexual performance felt ridiculous, when he knew all women were mysterious and vastly unique creatures.

But it occurred to him that she was seeking reassurance. He could not fault her for that when to lose your virginity was such a precious, built-up event for young women.

"You were wonderful," he said, though that word did not seem suitable enough for all that she had been. He bent his head to press a kiss to her decolletage, moaning when she stiffened and shuddered beneath his lips. She was so very responsive to everything he did, it humbled him. "And I'm certain the second or third or forth time will be all the more marvelous."

He hadn't given thought to how she may have interpreted that comment. The instance it flew out of his mouth, he cringed. How very presumptuous of him to assume that there would even be a second or third or forth time with Lizzy. He would not have been surprised in the slightest if she would be left mentally scarred by what he had done to her for the rest of her life. No doubt, she would spend the rest of her life beating men off with a stick in disgust due to the way he had defiled her; dirty old man that he probably was in her eyes.

"I don't think I'd mind a second, third or even a forth time with you," Lizzy muttered daringly.

A hiss left Red's clenched teeth at her words and his upper lip twitched in shock. It was the very last thing he had expected her to say, and as usual, she never seemed to cease to surprise him. It was like what she had said to him in the car, about how she could not believe any woman would dare to have an affair if he were their husband. But surely she did not understand what she was saying; she was young, so, so terribly young. Surely she did not mean what she was saying at all. She couldn't.

Simply because he did not know what was appropriate to say in response to that, Red shifted down on the sheets, passing a hand across his face before dragging it into the strands of his hair. What had he created? He wondered fearfully. Could she not understand that there couldn't possibly be another second or third or hell, even a forth time between them? It only sunk in then along with Lizzy's bold words of just what a terrible thing he had done. He had gone against Sam's trust in such a terrible way. He hardly thought he could stand to look at Sam now once he returned back from the hospital without feeling sick.

His emotions felt in a tug-of-war as he let his hand fall from his hair slowly. He had enjoyed making love to Lizzy, and if he had to be honest, it had felt incredible. There was just... something about her; He could mull upon it all for hours in order to try figuring out what that nameless something was that she had. He just enjoyed her company and spending time with her. Being around her was just such a gas.

It was an immediate ego boost when she would listen to him talk, as if she believed he knew everything as he was older than her, the way she made him feel as though he was so interesting to her and so attractive as a male of the opposite sex. Even what they had done together minutes ago had stroked his ego in reassuring him that all was not lost, that... despite being thirty-eight, a young beautiful woman her age still wanted him sexually.

Perhaps all this merely meant, was that he was suffering from some form of early midlife crises if such a thing even existed?

Or perhaps it did not have anything to do with any of that at all? Perhaps he was over-complicating it?

"Tell me something personal about yourself," Lizzy whispered, shaking him from his thoughts. Red found himself relieved that she had at last spoken again, that she was unknowingly stopping him from overthinking.

Something personal about himself? It was hard for him to find something to say, something to tell her that would not give away too much. "I absolutely hate dolls. I would even go so far as to say that I have a phobia of them," he settled on lightly, his heart picking up in rate when she laughed in amusement.

"Your afraid of dolls?" she repeated, arching her brows in disbelief. "Why dolls?"

"I am, and it's sadly true. In a room, if there's a doll, I swear that the very first thing I must do is turn it around so that it isn't facing me." He knew it was not quite the personal thing she wanted him to tell her, but he enjoyed the hell out of making her laugh. "It's something to do with the eyes, I think." Just merely speaking of it, it made him shudder. "Those beady, vacant glassy eyes. The... the way they always seem to stare at you, like they're judging you. They're terrifying."

"You _know_ that wasn't what I meant..."

"What did you mean then?" All right, so he was playing dumb. He knew precisely what she meant.

If felt as though the muscular organ of his heart froze when she shifted down with her body against him to rest her head on his bare chest, strands of her hair tickling him. The movement alone only seemed to serve as a reminder of just how wrong this was, of just what a terrible thing he had done to Sam. He closed his eyes shut for a second before opening them to peer down at where she lay on him. Her lips were still pulled back into a dimpled smile, her straight teeth gleaming up at him. Good God, she was beautiful. Why on earth would she have wanted anything to do with him, least of all sexually? Why hadn't she stopped him?

"As hilarious as it is to hear that your afraid of dolls even at your age, that wasn't exactly the personal thing about yourself that I was referring to." Her smile waned as she licked around her lips, her eyes squinted in thought. "I meant more like... where were you born? Where did you grow up? Stuff like that?"

"Boston, Massachusetts," he answered unhesitatingly. Lizzy knowing where he was born and where he grew up was not something dangerous for her to know.

"What has been your favorite era so far?" She wanted to be creative with her questions.

"My favorite era?" he repeated softly for a moment, considering it. He had no idea in the slightest of why she was asking, but it did amuse him. "That would have to definitely be the eighties. The great and wonderful eighties."

"The eighties? Why?"

"Just the... fashion trends and the fact that I were in my twenties. It was probably the most easiest time of my life, those thirteen or fourteen years ago." Now that Lizzy had gotten him thinking about it, he was hit with the most curious sense of nostalgia. "And the girls... Girls would always gallivant about wearing the most shortest spandex mini skirts." He tongued the side of his cheek, a laugh escaping him as he shook his head. "I remember there was this one jacket that I would constantly wear all the time, laden with shoulder pads."

He suspected he was boring her to death when she grew alarmingly quiet. When he brought his eyes down to check on her, to his relief he saw that she was still very much listening, hanging off his every word.

"Good God, and the hair. You mightn't be able to believe it now simply just by looking at me, but I had such a thick mane of hair back then. My skull was... teeming with hair, much more than it was now, and I had a mullet. Mullets were so trendy back then, and something about a guy prancing around in the streets with a mullet tended to drive the girl's wild back in those days. _Now_ , not so much for... obvious reasons."

"You had a mullet?" She sounded so filled with disbelief.

"I did, though... nowadays that isn't something a person is usually proud to admit."

"I can't even imagine it. You with a mullet."

"Then consider yourself lucky," he retorted in jest. "I'm sure if you could, you'd be positively... appalled. Back then, I so naively assumed it made me so cool."

"Appalled? Oh, I don't-" Her words were cut off when a yawn assaulted her. "I don't know about that," she finished, closing her mouth up again. "Did my father have a mullet, too?"

"Yes." He felt her laugh silently as her head shook against him. "Take it from me that Sam's mullet was all the more horrendous than mine. The only peculiar thing was that Sam never seemed to get the same amount of attention from the girls as I did. Even after all this time, I still cannot figure out why that was."

He was unafraid of making fun of himself. He had a self-depreciating sense of humor. Elizabeth realized then that it was one of the qualities she liked about him the most.

00

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open. She felt heavy and unusual, tender in places that she had not felt tender in before. She refrained from moving, taking the seconds to comprehend what was happening, where she was and due to the fact that she felt she couldn't. Glancing down she realized Kenneth's arm was wrapped around her waist, his head resting close to her own. He was snoring in her ear. Loud. His boisterous, nasally sleeping sounds were not something that would have entered into her fantasies of the man. She suspected it was probably this uproar of noise that had roused her in the first place.

He was still unclothed on top of the sheets, she could feel that, and so was she, and parts of their bodies including some intimate realms were snuggled close.

She remained still where she was as some minutes passed. She contemplated either moving or simply sleeping again, though she realized she needed to urgently use the bathroom and that there would be no sleeping with all the noise that he was emitting near her ear. Her current position became uncomfortable, having remained so under his arm and the entire length of his body for an unknown amount of time, but moving was more complicated than it sounded.

When she could take it no longer, Elizabeth decided to make her moves slowly. She tried to shrink and roll under his arm and twist. The hesitance of her movements were done so that she would not wake Kenneth, but after three unsuccessful tries the attempt was dismissed. She would have to move swiftly, quickly.

For a shifting second she pushed hard against his hold and laid on her back- his arm still hung around her middle but his head a few inches away. His snoring stopped dramatically but only for a moment. It hadn't been enough to rouse him fully from his sleeping and again, though slightly softer and at more longer intervals, the snoring commenced. She sighed loudly. What was she to do? She felt as if she was on the verge of bursting if she could not get to the bathroom soon enough.

She had no choice left but to lift his arm and move out from under him. Watching his face while she gently hoisted his arm up by the wrist, she scooted to the edge of the bed, standing shakily while placing his arm down slowly on the bed again. Now that she had left the bed, she realized how cold and breezy the room was. It had been so warm, his body up against hers, his natural body heat warming her. Now that she had gotten off the bed and stood away from him, she felt the immediate absence of his warmth so intensely. Shivering wildly, she stood for a moment, waiting to hear his snores again. When she heard it come back, she sighed in relief. She was free, and she hadn't managed to wake him.

She felt suddenly embarrassed at her nakedness when she felt her nipples harden at the chill in the air, though no one was even in the house to see her. Her poor father was still at the hospital, and Kenneth was fast asleep; he wasn't awake to see her body either. Moving around the bed with light, unhurried movements, she saw her tank top and underwear lying on the floor and rushed on tiptoes to scoop them up.

She was only halfway towards them when her right ankle got caught on something, snagging through a loop, and she almost stumbled to the floor. She waited on all fours on the carpet until she heard Kenneth's snores begin again, reaching down to untangle what was wrapped around her ankle.

It was his bag, she realized. The bag he had brought to the house, his belongings. She couldn't help the curiosity she felt as she picked up a few, small pocket-sized books. Half of the contents had already spilled out anyway. It was not as if she was deliberately snooping.

Passports from different countries, in different languages and nationalities. There were multiple passports in his bag.

Opening the first one her fingers found, she felt her heart rate pick up at what she read.

Roger Raymond.

Dropping it, she grabbed the next one, opening it up hastily as she drew her tongue along her bottom lip.

The next one was a passport in French language.

William Burchfield.

Next one, in Russian. Bill Houston. Then finally, finally.

Kenneth Rathers.

When Kenneth's snores stopped dramatically, filling the room with silence, she stacked all the passports together, shoving them back into his bag quickly. If he had come to catch her snooping through his belongings, Elizabeth was not sure what he would do. But her mind was filled with questions due to the multiple copies of passports in his possession. Who had she slept with last night then, if Kenneth Rathers was not his name? Who even was this man that she had given herself over to last night, this friend of her adopted fathers?

 _Another chapter :) And more pieces coming together. Hope my English writing was okay as usual. I am always worried about that! Thank you so much for being so inspirational in making me write, your words are so supportive and I really thank you. My hopes this isn't a terrible addition! Would love to know what you think. There is drama upcoming, just a warning._


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12**_

It had to be morning, but very early. The light behind the curtains were a shade of grey. When Elizabeth grabbed her clothes, shuffling back into her tank top and underwear quickly, she felt as if she could not think straight. She would have liked to wake Kenneth up, despite how insulting and rude it may have been. She had a lot of questions due to those passports in his bag. She felt so confused.

But she decided to not think of it right now, otherwise she would be panicking. It was better to just forget it for the time being and focus solely on doing what she had to do until he woke. There was nothing she could do while he was still fast asleep the way he was.

She wondered if she should try to make breakfast as a way to keep her mind preoccupied until he woke to take her to school. Was that what she was supposed to do after sharing a bed with a man and having sex with him last night? She did not know. She wasn't even sure if there was some proper etiquette to follow. She had never slept in bed with a man before, romantically, and she certainly had not ever had one make love to her.

Parts of her were changed forever when she didn't even know the rules to play by, even if there were any to begin with. The act had happened without her even being aware of any, so she wondered if it weren't fine to simply act naturally and as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

She stopped to listen to Kenneth's heavy breathing and snores one last time before she left the guest bedroom, heading downstairs to the bathroom. She felt relieved that he had not woken and caught her out in the act of snooping through the passports in his bag.

She still was not sure what all of those passports with the different names had meant, but if there was one thing that she understood quite clearly, it was that obviously Kenneth was not being completely one hundred percent honest with her.

The photographs used on the passports had definitely been of Kenneth though, and she could not pretend otherwise. All shots were the same. It was the different names on each one that made a funny kind of hurt in her throat. She was starting to become even more anxious at the thought of it when she flushed the toilet, washing her hands under the tap. Was Kenneth Rathers even his real name? Or was it one of the other names on the passports? Roger Raymond or Bill Houston? She was not even sure what she was supposed to call him now.

A part of her felt tricked. Betrayed. Cheated. She had given herself to him in such a special, private way, and evidently he was lying to her about his true identity and just who he really was. Why would he feel the need to lie? What good reason did somebody have to lie about their identity? The feeling of hurt and confusion was so profound she began to ache in places she wasn't even aware. She bit her lip as she bent down to cup water into her palms, splashing it over her suddenly hot face.

She did not even know how she was going to bare talking to him once he woke. How did she react normal around him? Should she confront him about the passports? Would he get angry if she did?

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror as she used a soft white face towel to pat her skin dry. She tried to see if she looked any different. To her surprise, there was not any mark or stamp on her forehead that told the world that she had lost her virginity to the much older friend of her father's. Her cheeks were still rather flushed but she was feeling warm from the shock of the passports, and her lips seemed a deeper shade of pink.

She recalled his kisses, on every part of her body, her neck, her thighs, and the light nibbles from his teeth. Carefully she turned her head here and there, examining her neck and around her throat. Then she glanced down at her thighs out of curiosity, turning her knees inward, both to see if there were any noticeable marks. There was at least nothing prominent there that couldn't easily be explained by anything else. All in all, she looked the same as she always had, despite feeling different inside.

Fully awake now that she had splashed water on her face, she switched off the light and walked out of the bathroom into the kitchen. She caught sight of the illuminated numbers of the time and saw it was still only six thirty in the morning. The blinds in the kitchen had been left open from last night, a soft, grey light seeping into the room.

She would try to make breakfast, she decided, moving towards the fridge to look inside at the contents, however minimal there were. She was terrible at cooking and the thought of messing it up in front of Kenneth made her feel embarrassed, but it was also something she found she very much wanted to do for him. He would appreciate that, wouldn't he? If she went out of her way to make him breakfast after last night?

They didn't have much to use, as far as cooking ingredients went. There were two eggs, a carton of milk, and butter. She could have made scrambled eggs but she was not completely sure on how to do the recipe right. She opened the door to the freezer, her eyes landing on a prepacked box of waffles that she had forgotten about. Her father had brought them from the grocery store ages ago.

She pulled the cold box out while moving towards the stove, clicking it on to the highest temperature level while reaching down to find a pan under the sink to cook with. It was going to be a bit of trial and error, but hopefully she would get it right. How hard could it be to cook waffles that were straight out from inside the box?

When she plopped in two frozen waffles into the pan, it occurred to her that she might need cooking oil. At the precise moment when she had poured in a careless amount over the waffles, it erupted into immediate sizzling flames, frightening her.

She made a loud noise and it was this noise that woke Red, though thanks to the frantic banging and clanging of kitchen utensils downstairs and the panicked noises Lizzy was making made him completely aware that she had gotten herself into some spot of bother.

He had no idea what time it was or when it was that she had gotten out of bed to leave him alone, shivering nakedly on top of the cool sheets exactly, but all he knew was that she had obviously gone downstairs at some point and she was somewhere in the kitchen, it seemed.

He arched up onto his elbows, blinking heavily through blurry vision, his mind slow and groggy from being abruptly shaken awake by all the dreadful racket she was making downstairs.

Then all hell broke loose as the fire alarm started going off, loud and piercing.

His heart raced in apprehension and he could feel his breathing go shallow with panic. He shot up off the bed, stumbling ungracefully to find his pair of jeans. He noticed in the back of his mind that his bag of belongings were strewn further away from where he had placed it safely hidden under the bed, though that was not important at this moment in time. What was mostly important was understanding what was happening with Lizzy and why the fire alarm system was making such God awful noise the way it was at such an early time of the morning.

He found his jeans, sliding his legs into them and yanking them up hurriedly. Then he found his shirt on the floor. He shoved his arms into the sleeves but did not bother buttoning it up, instead in favor of jumping straight into action in racing downstairs towards the kitchen.

The smell assaulted him before he saw it. The horrible, nostril-stinging stench of smoke.

He skidded to a halt in the entryway of the kitchen, breathing heavily, noticing all of the smoke and the flames sizzling away in the pan on the stove. It was truly no wonder the fire alarm had been set off in the house then. Lizzy was going berserk, rushing to fill a glass up with tap water in order to throw it into the pan, trying to put out the flames.

It was the mere fact that she was just standing there, getting too close to the flames and putting herself at risk that bothered him more than anything else. He felt the anger burn in his chest similar to indigestion as he went into immediate action, stalking up to her from behind. He caught her with two arms tight around the waist, pulling her back away from all the smoke and the flames with his body weight, all 115 pounds of her, making her stumble backwards against him.

In that exact second, he was reminded of what he had done for her when she was a little girl. He had done the exact same thing back then; Grabbing her, hoisting her away to safety. The similarity of that from then to now was startling to him.

It was happening all over again, his mind registered unpleasantly. It was like the fire was happening all over again, and he could not believe the sheer audacity she had by now to be so careless, particularly after the tremendously difficult childhood she had experienced the way she had. To put herself directly in harms way, it made him so aggravated with her. Surely she would have known better by now, wouldn't she? Had she learned nothing over the years?

"You silly, careless girl," he muttered in annoyance before he could stop himself, chiding her. "Stay right there where I put you," he instructed her roughly.

He unwound his arms from around her waist, leaving her at a safe distance near the furthest wall of the kitchen while he worked at eliminating the situation himself, shaking his head in dismay all the while. He gripped the handle on the frying pan, transferring it over into the sink quickly when it began to burn his palm, shoving on the running water at its maximum flow to drown the flames and effectively put them out. The constant high-pitched wailing of the fire alarm was the last straw that broke the camels back.

"Instead of standing around there uselessly, wave this around near the fire alarm so that it stops making all of that dreadful racket, will you?" He tore the old stained dishtowel off its hanger, chucking it in Lizzy's direction. Again, he noted how harsh his voice was when directed towards her, and he winced before turning back to the stove to switch it off.

He hadn't intended to act so angry towards her, but he could not help it. He _was_ angry, exceptionally so, but Lizzy was a grown woman now and surely she couldn't get halfway through her life, treated by adults as though she were this fragile girl wrapped up in cotton wool. He was just so, so disappointed in her.

"I'm sorry," he heard her speak loudly in embarrassment over the noise, and when he threw a look over at her, she was waving the dishtowel around, jumping up and down to get the smoke in the air away from the alarm frantically. "I... I don't know what happened. I was just trying to make breakfast!"

When Red could see that the flames had fully gone down in the pan, he turned off the tap, scrutinizing the sodden, inedible charred ingredients inside. Waffles. Lizzy had been trying to cook waffles for breakfast, and it both astounded and amused him that someone could make a failure out of such a seemingly simple thing to do.

"Guess the secrets out," she muttered once the fire alarm had stopped, trying to make light of the situation, though he did not appreciate the fact that she was. "I can't even cook something as basic as waffles straight out from a box. Like I said, I'm sorry."

"I _don't want_ to hear you apologizing to me, Lizzy!" It tore out of his mouth before he could stop himself, his words a sharp and loud, tremulous outburst. Usually he prided himself on having a good grasp on his emotions but right now, it was difficult. "When something like this happens, you _do not_ just stand there directly in front of the flames! You _don't just_ stand there!"

He was shaking, he was that stressed and affected by what had happened. Did she not realize how close she had come? Did it not matter to her at all; how out of hand things could have quickly become, and just how hurt she could have been?

"Coming from a girl who had a traumatic childhood where she very nearly came close to dying in a house fire, I would assume that surely you would have known that!"

"I... I just wanted to make breakfast." Her voice was quiet and downtrodden. "I didn't realize that-"

"Well, now you do," he argued through gritted teeth, stepping closer towards her. "I admit that I expected so much better from you. I realize now that I... that perhaps I was wrong."

Elizabeth did not appreciate the tone that he was speaking to her in at all. It was frightening enough, having created such a sudden disaster while trying to cook and heat up waffles. Now Kenneth was speaking in tones similar to ones her father used whenever he disapproved of something she had done.

It was not in the tones of a lover that had participated in such a special, intimate act with her last night. It was like he was parenting her, and it made a tight, bitterness twist in her stomach. She did not understand why he was reacting this way; To her, he was badly overreacting. Why was he so mad at her? When he came closer to stand right in front of her, she shrunk against the wall, cowering slightly. She had not seen Kenneth look this way, or had him speak this way to her before.

He was cornering her into the wall and she could not help feeling ten times smaller than she was when he slipped his fingers around her chin, grasping it, turning her head upright and forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You won't _ever_ put yourself into a situation like that again, Lizzy, do you understand?" He was not yelling at her exactly, but in this he did not need to. He kept his words low and stern, and it had the intended effect he was no doubt searching for. " _Never_ again."

Her heart swelled heavily with guilt when she glanced up at his face fleetingly, her eyes falling to his lips. She saw the way the corner of his lip twitched and as she brought her eyes upwards to meet his gaze reluctantly, she was shocked to find it was not so much anger that was glistening there in his piercing green eyes at her. It was almost something similar to fear. Was he afraid for some reason? Or was it mainly about the passports she had discovered in his bag of belongings? Was he panicking due to that?

"I don't like it when you talk to me like this."

"Like what?" He blinked at her, startled. " _How_ am I talking to you?"

"Just like your my father," she admitted apprehensively, jerking her chin out of his grasp. "Like you have a right to parent me on what I should and shouldn't do. You said it yourself one time. We're humans and we make mistakes. That's what I did just then, I made a mistake."

Red felt his anger soften dramatically at her words. It was unexpected, what she said to him, and he did not even consider himself acting in such a way to her that may be viewed as parental or patronizing. It hadn't occurred to him that she would interpret his behavior in that way. He tilted his head, raking his eyes down her body, the way she was standing up against the wall, barely clothed in anything else but the tank top and underwear that she had worn last night. Just like that, he recalled their night together, at how humbled he had felt, how lucky to be given the opportunity. But perhaps she was right? Perhaps he was going a little too overboard?

"I wasn't expecting you to do that, Lizzy. To make breakfast."

She turned her head, glancing off into another direction. "I wanted to," she said softly. He could sense that she was almost about to break down into tears. It had been a shock to him as well.

"I'm sorry. Come here," he said with a forced smile, widening his arms to her. He found that, more than anything, in that moment he wanted a chance to hold her, a chance to kiss her before things would have to change and Sam would be arriving back in.

In a moment they were embracing, his grasp tight, his chin perched on her hairline. What had just happened had shaken him terribly, and he could sense that Lizzy was in quite the same boat. It had just struck a nerve, the similarities to that night where she was much, much younger. The idea of coming close to losing her again, the idea of not being able to get there in time to save her and spare her life... it plagued him. He lifted his chin off her hair and arched back slightly, brushing his hand against her cheek as he bent down to lay a quick kiss on her lips.

"You must understand that it just hit too close to home." He moved to her cheek, covering it with more kisses, then her forehead, overwhelmed. "It brought back... terrible memories."

"Memories of what?" she asked breathlessly.

Red released a heavy sigh and pulled back to look down at her, looking deeply into her eyes, wishing to memorize them, to memorize every single part of her. He would be leaving soon to be on his way and, naturally, he could not stay and remain idle at the house.

She placed her hand on his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. It was amazing how her touch alone seemed to lighten his mood, his lips twitching into a smile despite the seriousness and heaviness of what he was referring to.

"Nothing," he forced himself to answer quietly once he brought his eyes open again. "Nothing at all."

He had an urge to tell her right then with such aching strength. To tell her _everything_.

About how he had been at her house the night of the fire, of how the fire started, of how she murdered her father because her parents were disputing and he was being physically violent towards her mother. He wanted to tell her that he was the one that took her to Sam, that he was the one that pulled her out of the flames. That he was Raymond Reddington, a wanted fugitive evading the F.B.I and law enforcement agencies, that Kenneth Rathers did not exist.

He imagined her reaction and knew it could not happen. Not now, not ever. He could easily imagine things getting loud, emotional... she would throw things, hurt him.

"How are you?" he asked, trying to think of other less unpleasant things to speak about instead. It occurred to him suddenly that he had not even asked how she was feeling after what had happened last night. He was being so incredibly negligent. "Are you feeling... all right after last night?" He touched her cheek again lightly, running his knuckles against her skin.

"Yeah, I... I'm fine. Just a little shaken after what happened when trying to make breakfast."

"Yes, I happen to be quite shaken myself. You are certainly not the only one."

Elizabeth could not help softening into Kenneth's embrace, a small smile coming across her lips. He was touching her, smoothing her hair and the strands back from her face, bestowing kisses onto her, being so gentle and affectionate in a way that made her feel as if she was soaring, tingling. His anger at her earlier had obviously been forgotten about. In the mood he was in, she felt tempted to ask him about the passports. He wouldn't get too angry with her, would he? It was not as if she had been deliberately snooping; the passports had just fallen out of his bag. It wasn't her fault.

But just as she had warmed up to the idea, he was speaking again. "I'm going to go take a shower. You'll have to go get dressed so that I can drive you to school on time," he said meaningfully, bending down to kiss her on the lips one last, lingering time before pushing her away gently. He had kissed her long and hard enough that her moment and chance was lost, the question left burning on her tongue unspoken.

 _I thank you so much for inspiring me to write. I do hope you liked this one. As usual, your thoughts would be great to hear! I always worry that writing them in character is something I've failed at so I hope they still are somewhat._

 _As in reference to the comment I received about my story being disgusting or gross because I am writing of them as a couple, I am sorry but I do not believe Red to be her father. He is definitely not her father- in terms of this story. I am not sure where the show will go but I do not necessarily feel he is her father in the show either. I respect your opinion but, as other reviews commented in response and I agree in, if you don't like this, then you do not need to read my writing. I am not holding you to with force. :) I am a Lizzington shipper (did not know that name existed until recently, I am a bit behind) so if you don't like, don't read. I never understand how people tear others down due to what they think or the context of the writing they want to write about._

 _That said, I hope all of you have a safe and happy Easter. My blessings!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Red closed the bathroom door, sighing softly with relief at the silence that filled the room. Sam and Lizzy's bathroom was nowhere near what he was used to, as far as the impeccable standard of hotel rooms went, but when he glanced around, he was struck by the simplistic, homely and rustic feel even the bathroom had about it. It was not like a bathroom in a usual hotel room, which at times tended to feel clinical. It was well-lived in and cluttered with both Lizzy and Sam's belongings.

He stripped out of his clothes while taking care to fold each article of clothing neatly, placing them down on the closed toilet lid, sighing again in immense relief. Once fully unclothed, he yanked the plastic shower curtain back to run the hot water. He felt so thankful to have a moment alone all by himself without Lizzy near him to interfere; Everything was starting to feel so overwhelming, and it was only now that he was alone with only his own thoughts to preoccupy himself, that he began to feel in a state of panic over what had occurred last night with Lizzy.

While he could not bring himself to fully regret what had happened between them, it was more so the reaction that would inevitably come from Sam had he discovered what had happened between them. Red knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that if Sam came to know of how Red had slept with his adopted daughter last night, their friendship would be potentially severed irreparably.

Years ago, Red had put Lizzy's life in his good friend's capable hands, trusting him to care for her and provide her a sense of normalcy in life. Comparably, Sam had done much the same thing to him last evening, in expecting Red to take care of and console Lizzy while he was stuck in the hospital. Yet what had he gone and done? He had gone against Sam's trust in the most worst possible way, in having sex with Lizzy, the girl he now considered his real daughter.

As he stepped into the shower, the response was immediate, the metallic head above him spraying hot water unto his body. While the water warmed him, it did not soothe him or alleviate some of the deep-seated guilt for what he had done. He held his head directly under the spray of water for a long moment as he placed his hands on the cool tiles to support himself upright, the steam misting around the bathroom so thick he was beginning to find it suffocating and difficult to breathe.

Good God, what had he done to Lizzy? How could he have let himself do that to her, especially after everything that had happened? While she may have been a month's away from being eighteen and, in all things considered, a young adult, he still refused to rest any of the responsibility onto her shoulders. The responsibility had been all his, it was all his fault. He ought to have been a responsible adult last night and stopped it before it happened. He should have-

Red's heart seemed to jump in his chest in fright when he thought he heard a loud knock on the bathroom door. He couldn't hear a single thing while he stood submerged under the steady spray of water. It was only when he stood back from under the shower-head, his hair soaked and dripping wet, that he heard her voice clearly as it bounced off the tiled walls.

"Kenneth? Um, Red?"

"Yes, Lizzy. What is it now?" He yelled out in confusion, blinking the water out of his eyes frantically. He cringed at the unintentional rudeness in his tone of voice and he paused, deliberately making adjustments to sound gentler, "Er, yes, sweetheart? Is there something you want or need?"

"It's just that you've been in the shower for a little over ten minutes." Ten minutes? Had it truly been that long? He hadn't even realized. "I... I guess I just wanted to make sure that you were still alive in here and that you hadn't drowned?"

"Well, as you can see by my talking to you, Lizzy, I haven't drowned. I'm still very much alive."

"You need my help with anything?" Her buoyant voice sounded closer to the shower curtain and Red quickly turned his back towards it, trying to cover his genitals as if it would even help.

"God, no!" He despised how petrified he sounded, as if he was an inexperienced, scared little boy at the idea of her joining him in the shower. His voice definitely was not cooperating with him this morning, and he cringed, making readjustments again,"I mean, while I'm thankful for the offer, I think I'm perfectly fine showering on my own."

He'd hate for her to think he didn't want her or that he was not grateful for the suggestion, at the very least.

"It's just that I... I've been doing this for the last twenty five years now. Due to that, I...I think I've got the general gist of it and can consequently manage showering on my own."

He smacked a palm against his forehead in irritation, clenching his eyes shut. Why did he have to sound like such a babbling fool to her constantly?

"But thank you," he forced himself to add, softening the blow a little. "Thank you for your considerate invitation, Lizzy. Tempting as it may be, I think I'll pass today." Now he was fretting over whether she would interpret that as him encouraging her, though it was too late now and he could not take it back.

Red waited, holding his breath as he listened for the moment Lizzy left, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Oh, okay then. Well, I suppose I'll just wait downstairs then. I'm changed and ready to go anyway."

"I'll be done in just a short second," he assured her, feeling as though he had a mouth full of cotton. "Allow me to just get changed first and then I'll take you to school."

His stiff shoulders sagged in tremendous relief when he heard the bathroom door close after Lizzy left him alone. It was awful of him but the thought of her climbing into the shower with him, equally as naked and in such close proximity to each other... it would have only been a mere disaster just waiting to happen. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

He leaned his shoulder against the wet tiles, raising both hands to rub the water out of his stinging eyes with his fingertips. He felt so contrite and terrible with himself, particularly with how disappointed she had sounded by his refusal. She had sounded so eager, so hopeful at the idea of sharing the shower with him, and while Red was all for water conservation, he wanted to begin doing the right thing now.

From that point forward, he wanted to do the virtuous and righteous thing- for both Sam _and_ Lizzy. He would have to be mindful to keep his distance from now on, to ensure that what had happened last night was not a nightly occurrence. It was the best way to go about it, for Sam. He'd had a taste of the forbidden fruit last night, savoring it and enjoying it as much as he possibly could, and now it could simply not go on.

Once was more than enough with Lizzy, Red tried to convince himself as he turned off the shower taps, reaching through the plastic curtain to grab the towel from where it was draped on the rack. He shook it out, drying himself hastily while muttering under his breath.

"Never again," he whispered to himself firmly, speaking as a stern teacher would to a disobedient child. "What happened with Lizzy last night is something that you are not to do ever again."

He had enjoyed and cherished the experience while it lasted, but that was it; it would be a singular, once-in-a-lifetime event.

It would be easy enough. He tried to give himself a bit of a pep-talk as he fastened the towel around his waist before slowly opening the bathroom door, peering out and listening cautiously. He could not hear Lizzy moving about, but hopefully she would not intercept him on the way up to the guest bedroom. Realizing he would have to take his chances, Red darted out, walking briskly up the stairs while carrying his old clothes up into the room. He paused by the guest bedroom door, looking in, wide-eyed with nerves.

To his immediate relief, Lizzy was not anywhere waiting for him in the guest bedroom either. He knew he was being ridiculous and rather paranoid, but it would help had he not have to be forced to deal with her right now. The drive to her school and being confined in the car with her would be torture enough as it was.

All he simply had to do was get through taking Lizzy to school, and then that was it. She would be gone for over eight hours and he could drop into the hospital to visit Sam and check in to see how his good friend was going. It shouldn't be difficult.

He closed the door, getting changed into a fresh pair of clothes as quickly as humanly possible. Then he found his comb, brushing his damp hair and trying to assemble it into something at least remotely neat and passable. Why he was bothering to do that, he had no earthy idea, until it occurred to him that it may have been all for Lizzy. He stopped what he was doing immediately, scolding himself. He was preening for her- the very last thing he should be doing. It should not matter what she thought about how he looked. If he looked unappealing as possible to her, then all the better.

He had to take a few moments to breathe out deeply through pursed lips. Just the mere thought of having to endure being alone in the car with her after what happened last night... it terrified him. But he was being ludicrous and he had to face her.

When he trod downstairs slowly, gathering the keys for Sam's car, he was unprepared for it when Lizzy suddenly appeared from out of the kitchen, her bag slung over one shoulder, her hands busy carrying all of her books.

"Ready?" she asked, and it took Red a dreadfully long moment to regain the use of his voice.

"Yes. Yes, I think we're ready now."

When he stepped forward to assist her in opening the front door, she grinned at him thankfully. After locking the house up, he watched her move down the steps carefully, his eyes landing on her backside in her black jeans. Why did the jeans she chose to wear have to seem so impossibly tight, he wondered, his eyes inappropriately glued to her. Was it some sort of deliberate game to her where every move she made was to both entrance and tempt him?

He patted the pocket on his trousers, double-checking he had his cigarettes for reassurances sake while he held the passengers side door open for her. Once Lizzy was safely in and buckled, he shut the door, striding over to the driver's side. He just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and, hopefully in the meantime, she would avoid mentioning anything directly related to what had happened between them last night.

Red felt glad he had a shower, because as he reversed out of the driveway, already he was perspiring like crazy. His mouth felt dry, his tongue permanently stuck to the roof of his mouth. He could not recall a time where he had felt so sick with anxiety.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing how her fingers were stroking the scar tissue on her wrist. Just like that, he saw last night all over again. How it had felt to feel her soft, delicate fingers on his back, how she touched him. How it felt to caress Lizzy with his own bare hands and at how smooth and supple her flesh was. How her skin felt beneath his lips, so tender and soft. How she smelled, like lavender from the shampoo, how she tasted, her tongue flickering in his mouth.

Instinctively, his hands tightened over the steering wheel as he swallowed dryly, his knuckles straining white under the tense grip.

"You know, you never properly explained it to me?"

And her voice. Good Lord, the way she sounded when she moaned at the things he were doing to her, how so very receptive she was, how the noises she made were like such heavenly music to his ears; the best symphony he believed he had ever heard.

Red had to clear his throat, before asking hoarsely, "Explained _what_ , Lizzy?"

"Red. Why the nickname Red? Or is it just because it happens to be your favorite color?"

His mind was frantic as he searched for a plausible enough reason. "The Boston Red Sox," was the only coherent explanation he could come up with in such short notice.

"The baseball team?"

"Yes, that's right. I'm known around certain circles to be an enormous Red Sox fanatic."

It was not a total untruth; In fact, one of Red's most earliest and fondest memories was getting to watch the baseball team play live at Fenway Park when he was a young boy with his father. When he was much younger, he couldn't have gotten enough of showing his support for his local hometown team, though nowadays, with how busy he was, that had changed dramatically. It was not a complete lie, though.

"So that's where the nickname Red came from? Because your a big Red Sox enthusiast?" She did not seem as though she was uncertain to believe him, at the very least.

"Yes. An old friend called me it once due to that, and ever since that first time, it was just something that... stuck. Now everyone that knows me well calls me it." Lying to her was becoming quickly easier; His hesitance was gone and, much to his pleasure, they started flowing more easily and convincingly.

"Guess that makes sense then, why you would be called that," she murmured after a long moment, and it was like a breath of fresh air to him. "There's something else that I don't get though..."

"What?" He was only half-listening, watching the traffic far ahead of them. The road seemed heavily congested this morning for some reason. "What isn't there to get, Lizzy?"

He had no idea where she was attempting to take the conversation at all. Until he heard what she said next, though he was unsure whether he had even heard her correctly to begin with.

"The multiple passports in your bag maybe?" She was being short with him, her tone curt.

It was a feeling of horror unlike anything Red had ever felt before. Even during a meeting with an associate that had gone disastrously wrong which had resulted in him getting his kneecap shot or a near brush with a Federal Agent was incomparable to this. He felt in sheer and total horror as he brought his eyes to where Lizzy sat. She was already staring right at him, her mouth slightly agape, expecting him to answer and explain. His biggest fear had come true- that she would eventually come to know the truth. Not an important part of the truth, but a big one nevertheless.

His first defense was to lie and play dumb, though it took him a good minute to compose himself out of shock, the blood trickling out of his face. "I'm not so sure that I understand what this is in reference to?"

She had seen the passports in his bag, though he was unsure of when that could have been. All he knew, was that Lizzy had obviously looked through his belongings to find them. A part of him was disgraced, yet another side of him felt privately relieved that the secret was now out.

"What? So are you saying you don't know about the passports in your bag? The ones with all the different nationalities and identities?"

There was so much that he had to say, yet it was impossible to know where precisely to start. "You went through my very own private belongings?" was all that Red could manage in annoyance.

"I was curious. Besides they fell out of your bag. It wasn't like it was something I did on purpose, like I... I was deliberately snooping around."

"Haven't you heard what happened to the cat that felt too curious for its own good?" He was doing it on purpose, prolonging it until a reasonable enough explanation came to him.

"Of course I know. Curiosity killed it."

He could feel her stare burning into him, and when he glanced in her direction again, he was correct in the assumption. She _was_ staring at him heatedly, her blue eyes filled with questions. God, what had he done? Why did he have to be so sloppy? He should have concealed the passports better in order to prevent all of this.

"You want to know what the worst of it is?" she went on quietly.

She was so hurt and upset. Red watched as these emotions overcame her right before his very own eyes, her body physically raked with them. Everything she was feeling right now- all due to him and his deception- it was so palpable. But it was also a hugely necessary deception. She may not ever come to properly understand his reasons why, but in his mind, it was perfectly justified.

"What, Lizzy? I... I'm not so sure that I understand what your-"

"- The worst thing is giving yourself over to someone in such a special and intimate way, only to learn that they've been lying about themselves and who they are the whole entire time." She shook her head back and forth, her eyes building with moisture. "It's like... taking advantage of someone."

He had no idea what to say. What could he say to make it better?

His mouth opened and closed, until he said in a hopeless whisper, "You mightn't ever understand my reasons why into not telling you who I truly am, but I-"

"- You _what_? Is Kenneth Rathers even your real name? I saw a lot of different names on the passports, Kenneth being one of them? Or is your name Bill or... or Roger?"

"No, my name isn't truly Kenneth Rathers. Nor is it Roger or Bill or even William."

"Were you even going to tell me or were you just hoping I wouldn't notice? Was my father? Does he know?"

"Yes, he knows, but no, Sam was _never_ going to tell you who I am because it's _not Sam's_ decision to make on that," he specified in a loud but clear tone, being honest despite it being something she no doubt did not want to hear.

Now he wished this has happened anywhere else but while he was attempting to drive her to school.

"Frankly, I wish we could do this somewhere else. I hardly think its the right time for this; arguing about it in the car. My license expired years ago and... honestly, this is really nerve-wracking enough as it is." It was a pitiful excuse, but one he hoped would work.

But Red knew she was not falling for it. When he turned left into the parking lot at her school, she did not go to gather her things and leave the car. Not even when he found a suitable space to park in. She simply sat there, staring. He had no idea what she wanted to hear from him at all.

"So _who_ are you? I mean, who- _what_ makes a man hide his identity the way you are? I mean, God! We _had sex_ last night, my _first_ time- I had _sex_ with you and I _don't even know_ who the hell you are!" She seemed repulsed by her own words, by the realization of it all, the very last thing he wanted her to feel. "Sure, it was... bad enough because your actually a close _friend_ of my father's, but... what else were lies that you've told me?"

"Nothing else were lies!"

"Were you even married once by this... this Carla woman? Is she even _really_ your ex-wife?"

"Yes, that part of it _was_ true. I haven't lied about anything else that I've told you about!"

Even as he said it, he knew it was not true. There was the fire that he was present at when she was a little girl; the fact that he had been the one to save her and pull her out from the flames, rather than her father. He had given her to Sam and he had been funneling out money into Sam's bank account in order to help him afford to look after her and pay for her education ever since that night.

But all things considered, if he were operating on a need to know basis, they were not things she needed to know in his view. They were not important.

Lizzy was staring at him as if she wished him to squirm, and he found he was under her stare. "So its just your identity."

"Yes, that's it, Lizzy. I would never lie to you about anything. Everything else I've told you has been true!"

"So _who_ are you then? I think I deserve to know that, don't I?"

He couldn't. He just... couldn't. "I'm sorry, but I... I'm afraid that I cannot tell you that."

"I _had sex_ with you last night! I lost _my virginity_ to you, and yet you think I don't _deserve_ to even know what your real name is?"

"Red, that's my name and it _is_ true. My name is Red."

"But its just only your nickname?"

"Yes," he admitted quietly.

"So what's your full name? Don't I deserve to know that, at the very least?"

Red opened his mouth, about to reply, before he hesitated and closed it back up again. He couldn't tell her. He just couldn't. To tell her would be the most dangerous risk of all. She couldn't know.

"My name is Red, Lizzy. And as far as I'm concerned, it's all you really need to know."

There was a long silence where he just watched Lizzy as she sat there, the sound of her ragged breaths filling around the car. It almost sounded as though she were having an attack, and he supposed he could not blame her. He felt ashamed at himself, knowing he should have at least probably been more upfront, but it was necessary. She could hate him all she wanted from now on and that was something he felt he could live with, if it meant withholding the truth about his real identity from her.

"God, I'm so stupid. So stupid," she said, the words a quiet murmur, though she sounded quite calm. She bent down, grabbing the shoulder strap on her bag. "I bet you had a great time laughing to yourself about this, didn't you? About how you deceived me, that you've won?"

" _Of course_ not! Lizzy, I-" He could not even finish what he was attempting to say when Lizzy opened the door, climbing out of the car hastily. His insistent words were drowned out when she slammed the door shut roughly. She did not want to hear him out at all.

 _Here's another chapter. Thank you so much for inspiring me. Hope you enjoy this one! I apologize for my English again, if wrong and terrible. Hope you had a wonderful Easter!_


	14. Chapter 14

_I am sorry for taking such a long time to update the story. Hope you like this one. Thank you so much for inspiring me and for being so nice._

* * *

Chapter 14

When school finished for the day, Elizabeth went to her locker, grabbing her belongings. Then she made her way towards the exit of the three-story building, dread holding her hostage. She was not looking forward to heading home after what had happened in the car with Kenneth and their conversation.

In fact, staying out longer than usual and hiding in the school library until it closed was a far more appealing option to her. Anything was better than having to face Kenneth. No, Red, not Kenneth, she had to remind herself. Apparently he preferred the nickname Red. It was all so confusing; She did not know what to call him right now.

She bit her lip anxiously, her fingers tracing back and forth over her scar, her arm out. She followed the long line of students pushing out through the doors, using her shoulder instead of her hand to force it open. Her eyes searched the parking lot and she stopped walking the instant she saw the familiar Red Pontiac that belonged to her father parked there, her stomach in knots.

A man was standing, leaning against the hood of the car, dressed in a crimson button-up dress shirt and black dressy trousers. She did not realize the man was Red at first, because he was wearing a white trilby hat and she had not seen him wear one before. It was only when he lifted his head that she saw that it was him. He was waiting for her, that much was clear.

She considered avoiding him and walking off into the opposite direction, pretending she hadn't noticed him waiting for her. That course of action was squashed when he seemed to see her. He lifted his arm, waving at her. He'd caught her.

Her fighting style was more passive aggressive than confrontational. She preferred to give people the silent treatment, the cold shoulder. If something bothered her, Elizabeth usually would rather keep it to herself. Yet he was not giving her that option.

Surrendering to defeat, she trod down the steps of the building, walking to meet him at the car. At a closer distance, she saw that he was smoking another one of his disgusting cigarettes.

"You know, one of these days you are going to die by those things," she remarked once she reached him.

"You're probably right on that, Lizzy." A hoarse laugh left his throat as he stared at the ground. Elizabeth wondered if he was feeling too nervous to look at her; He avoided her gaze. "But I figure that since we are all going to die of something sooner or later, then why not go out with a bang while doing something you enjoy?"

He took one last puff of the cigarette, exhaling the smoke out in the opposite direction from where Elizabeth was standing, then he flicked it on the ground, stomping it out with his shoe. She saw how antsy he was being; how he started rocking his shoes back and forth on the pavement, how he rolled his lower jaw muscles while shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets. Was he usually this nervous or was it just due to what had happened between them last night? Was he feeling bad?

"How was school?"

He was trying to diffuse the awkwardness of what had happened earlier in the car, and more so, the awkwardness now, and Elizabeth recognized that. "Yeah, it was fine," she said shortly, forcing a smile. "What are you doing here? You really didn't have to pick me up from school? I was fine with walking home since it isn't raining today?"

"I thought that perhaps you would like to go shopping?" he suggested unexpectedly, and Elizabeth's eyebrows arched in surprise. "That is usually what girls love to do nowadays, isn't it? Go shopping? Or am I that senile that I have gotten it all backwards?"

She did not miss how he referred to her as a girl. Was that only what she was to him? Did he perceive her that way- just a young, senseless girl that loved fashion and shopping, and not an actual young woman with whom he had participated in such a special act with last night? Was she not his equal counterpart, but a child in his mind? While Elizabeth was like the next ordinary seventeen year old, where she did not mind going to the mall now and then and going window shopping, she rarely cared about keeping up with current fashion trends.

"That sounds rather fun, don't you think?" He was speaking in rapid undertones, and Elizabeth believed that she knew him well enough now to pick up on when he was feeling anxious. "We can find you a pretty little dress, and then we can go see your father at the hospital afterwards. I'm sure he'll be in happy spirits to see you. Does that sound like a good plan to you, sweetheart?"

"Um, okay. We can go shopping then."

He stepped forward to hold the car door open for her. As she slid in, resting her textbooks on her knees and reaching for the seat belt, he closed the door, walking around the front of the car to the drivers side. The way he was acting around her, it was worrisome. She couldn't help the nagging suspicion that something was dangerously wrong, maybe something had happened with her father.

While she realized early on during being in his company that Red was a quirky man filled with eccentricities and odd mannerisms- though, if she had to be honest with herself, that was half the reason she found him so undeniably attractive- he was sort of scaring her. She needed reassurance.

"Is everything okay with my father?" she asked nervously once Red sat in the drivers seat across from her. He appeared too invested in straightening the mirrors all of a sudden. "Did you visit him at the hospital early on in the day?"

"I did happen to visit your father at the hospital in the morning after I dropped you off to school, Lizzy, yes." Red turned to smile at her sheepishly, his green eyes boring into hers. He had a striking way of looking at her that made her feel as if she was his world, the only person of interest. She was knew it was probably a silly course of thinking, but it was how she felt.

"So? How was he? Did they say when he'll be allowed to come home?"

"Your father Sam is perfectly... fine." She caught the way he hesitated on the last word. The skin beneath his eyelid seemed to spasm as he cleared his throat loudly. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment, then he reopened them, his eyes glistening back at her. "He's going to be fine, Lizzy." She couldn't help getting the sense that he was not being entirely honest with her. She heard him swallow audibly when he quickly glanced away from her, the ignition rumbling to life as he started the car, the tan muscles in his throat twitching.

Her eyes kept shifting up to his face as a dull silence passed between them on the drive towards the mall. It was not a very comfortable silence where she sat there, playing with her fingers as she rested both hands on the top of her textbooks in her lap. The silence made her feel nervous, so she strove for a good way to break it. Her eyes landed on the hat he was wearing. Though she did not understand why he was wearing it, she believed it actually suited him, despite the hat almost reminding her of what a gangster or criminal would wear in the 1930's or 40's.

"Nice hat," she remarked breathlessly and a small giggle left her.

When he heard her voice and the quite girlish laughter that left her mouth, Red closed his eyes momentarily in relief, warmth flowing through him. He released his fingers tight grip over the steering wheel, the tension seeming to leave him at once. Minutes ago, it had been next to sheer torture, the silence. He found himself deeply grateful that she had taken the initiative to break it because, had he been the one to, he was terrified he would end up having a slip-up of gigantic proportions, revealing to her what was actually in truth wrong.

"Yes, I like to think so, too," he murmured deeply in agreement, turning his head to look at her. His heart almost stopped at the look on her face as another laugh left her. Her eyes were bright with amusement, a wide grin on her lips, showing her teeth and those dimples that he had become so quickly fond of the sight of. Good God, she was so beautifully radiant when she laughed...

"I didn't know you wear hats?"

"You'd be amazed at what many little unfortunate aging sins a hat can hide, Lizzy. While you women have- what is it?" He glanced her way for assistance. "Concealer, I believe it's called?" She nodded once, her eyes drifting down to his mouth as he talked. "Well, for us males, hats are our concealers. They mightn't be as... effective, mind you, but if the wind is just right..."

"Hide what, though? What sins are you even talking about?"

He pretended to think deeply on it for a moment, tilting his head to the side. "Well, like male pattern baldness, for instance. Thank God for hats to hide the hideous woes of that."

The instance the comment left his mouth, however, Red cringed. He was trying to be charming and yet, there he was? Speaking to her of male pattern baldness, of all things. Reminding her of how much of a dinosaur he was in comparison to her. Goodness, it was woeful.

It was painful enough as it was, simply looking at her and being reminded on just how youthful she really was, how fresh in the face. In contrast, he felt so ancient and haggard. Why she had slept with him last night, it was anyone's mystery. Not that he hadn't found himself in a constant state of bafflement and humbleness ever since it had happened, of course.

But what a fool. What a bumbling fool, mentioning baldness in front of her. Usually Red was not so insecure and he felt reasonably content with how he appeared, yet something about being in Lizzy's presence made him feel not so comfortable in his own skin. He was more than half her age and she was gorgeous. How could he not?

"Your not bald though?"

"Sadly I will be, sooner or later. You just wait, Lizzy. Give it a few more years and I'll be wearing hats as if they've been super-glued to my head. I'll be that odd man who has a humongous collection of hats in his closet, ranging from fedoras, felt tips, trilbies, to berets."

Elizabeth laughed softly again at his words, her stomach hurting. He could be so funny at times, and that was another reason why he held such appeal to her. His self-depreciating humor was something boys at her school lacked; Everyone else seemed to take themselves so seriously, but not him. She found it so refreshing, how he lacked vanity.

The silence returned as they reached the mall, but it was a comfortable one. Now that they had broken the ice, laughing and sharing a joke, she felt more relaxed and actually began to enjoy her outing with him. For Red, it was much the same. He was not much like the regular man, in the sense that he despised shopping and clothing chains.

He had heard many humorous tales of men being forced to take their wives or daughters shopping, how they found it boring and sheer agony to have to go through. But Red felt much different; He had a certain flare and passion for shopping himself, and he found himself enjoying the time spent with Lizzy already, despite the two of them barely being in the large, overcrowded mall for less than three minutes.

Partly, it was the mere idea of getting the chance to splurge on her that was a contributing factor to that. He couldn't wait to get her into a dress.

Elizabeth could feel herself senselessly beaming as they entered a store she would not naturally go into otherwise. The clothing in the store was expensive and lavish, way out of her price range, but Red had insisted they go take a gander inside at the clothes on the racks.

Just the chance of spending time with Red- it made her enjoy the experience thoroughly. He was so different from her dad that it was comical; Whenever Sam had to take her to the mall to get her clothes for school, he had dreaded it every time and looked embarrassed when he had to sit outside the change rooms, waiting for her to try clothes on. Red, in contrast, appeared so relaxed and as if he was enjoying himself. He was an enthusiastic participant in her shopping trip, and it became obvious he had a liking for the finer things in life.

He picked out two dresses for her, and when she caught the price on the tag, she was astounded by how dear the items were.

"You realize I could never get these, right?" she remarked with a laugh, daunted by the large figure on one of the dresses alone. While the dresses were very nice, and the prices for them were outrageous."My father gives me a fortnightly allowance of fifty dollars. He'd never actually let me buy this stuff. These are far too expensive!"

"Nonsense. Let me see."

Elizabeth found it difficult to turn her eyes away from him when Red pulled his pair of glasses out from his left trouser pocket. He slipped them on, stepping closer to squint his green eyes at the price on the tag, his expression concentrated, focused on the writing. He truly was partially blind, she realized, as he held the tag barely two inches away from his face, blinking and grimacing. But partially blind or not, she had meant what she had said. He was the most handsome man.

She felt her face glow with heat at how close he was standing, so much so that he was invading her space, his elbow brushing against the side of her arm. There was just something about the way he looked, wearing those black-rimmed reading glasses... Standing so close, her eyes drifted to the opened collar of his crimson shirt, at the hairs there on his chest. He was completely oblivious to the utter magnetism she felt he had about himself, it seemed. How did people act normal around someone they felt so attracted to- particularly one they had been intimate with in the most personal way two consenting persons could get?

He made a scornful scoffing noise as finally he let the tag go, turning to look at her. "You call that expensive? It's only five hundred dollars."

"Only?" she laughed, her face aching from how hard she was smiling.

"Go try them on," he urged, placing his hand on the middle of her back. "It's my treat, Lizzy." It was as if a tsunami of heat hit her when she felt his hand on her, pushing her towards the change room area. His words only properly sunk in once she reached the stalls. She spun back around on her heels to look at him, finding him hot on her heels.

"No, Red, it's not your treat," she protested, her face falling. "There is no way I'm letting you buy these for me. My father would kill me if I let you!"

It became clear he was not having any of it, though. He waved an arm at her, shooing her into the change rooms. She could not believe it, but she obeyed, stepping into the change room and putting both garments up on the hanger.

"I'll just sit out here like a dutiful dog," Red called out to her as he moved towards one of the chairs near the change rooms.

He patted down his pockets, feeling out his reading glasses, car keys, wad of cash, and his cigarettes before he turned and sat, sighing heavily. He leaned back in the chair, taking off his trilby for second to run his fingers through his hair. Then he placed the hat back onto his head, staring at the door of the change room that Lizzy had entered through. The chairs were not the most comfortable, but it was well worth it, just to see what Lizzy looked like in the dresses.

If he had to be honest, he was getting so much satisfaction out of this, but perhaps a perverse and wrong sort of satisfaction; One entirely selfish and for his own gains. He was not low of money in any sense of the word. His funds were overflowing, in fact. While he knew Lizzy would undoubtedly feel good about herself, getting to wear fine designer dresses of luxurious fabric, it was not just her happiness he had in mind. It was so gratifying to be able to do this now, to provide for her freely, rather than having to do it in the shadows as he had been doing for the last twelve or thirteen years or so.

He wanted to show her that money to him was something inconsequential, that he was at liberty to do this- to splurge on her, whenever the hell he wanted.

He heard the lock on the door slide back and he felt his heart rate pick up as he straightened in the chair. The way he felt, thrumming with excitement to see her in a dress... It was terrible.

"You ready?" He heard her ask, her shaky voice high-pitched with nerves.

"Ready as I'll ever-" He was struck silent when she pulled the door open, stepping out in one of the dresses.

Though she looked rather shy and she would not meet his eyes, she turned around on the spot, and an appreciative low groan almost left him, if he hadn't restrained himself soon enough. The dress looked absolutely mouthwatering on Lizzy. The light blue fabric gathered in all the right places and, when she turned to show him the back of it, he caught a glimpse of the back of her creamy, slender thighs. The cut of the back end of the dress had a triangular piece missing, showcasing the contours of her pale back, the demure bones of her spine.

She was not that little girl he had saved anymore, and he saw that more than ever, in that instance. No, now she was a beautiful young woman on the very cusp of womanhood. So full of sensuality, of natural femininity.

It occurred to him that he was in love with her then. How was he was feeling for her... it was the closest, tenderest sensation to love. The realization was like a slap to his face. It was ugly. Ugly, horrifying. Wrong. He should have never put himself into her life, and he loathed himself now for it. He should have stayed away longer.

Her backside curved out in the dress, the fabric complimenting her figure. It become so very hard to control himself. He almost felt tempted to forget everything- his pledge from in the morning that, from that point onward, he would do the right thing for Sam's sake, to stop what had happened from reoccurring again- to stand up and shove her into the change rooms for a little privacy.

The way Red's eyes traveled over her body made Elizabeth's mouth stretch tighter into a full grin. It was as if he saw her; really saw her. She felt completely exposed and rather flustered, but not uncomfortable under his scrutiny. There was a certain gleam in his eyes that made her feel... proud. Empowered. Her eyes never strayed from his face as she watched a various range of emotions cross his. Appreciation, desire, then... shame. The corner of his lip twitched as he lowered his green eyes to his hands that he clasped together in his lap, his jaw muscles working.

"Er, nice," he said, his voice an octave lower. He sounded strained somehow, as if he was holding back. "You look very... nice, Lizzy."

"That's it?" She couldn't bring herself to care how disappointed she sounded. "It's just... nice, Red? The dress is nice?" She had been secretly hoping that it would be enough; that if he saw her in the dress, then it would cause him to stop being so shy and conscious of not touching her or mentioning anything of what had happened last night. Apparently not.

He regretted what happened, she realized. He regretted what they had done together, and now he didn't want to go anywhere near her.

"Yes." His tone was curt as he nodded once. "It's very... nice, Lizzy. That there, is definitely the right dress for you." He cleared his throat, his lips parting slightly as he chewed on the side of his tongue. When he finally met her gaze again, Elizabeth saw that the heat was gone in his eyes. He suddenly felt so distant to her, so cold. He was distancing himself away from her, stepping back mentally. "I'm sure that... once Keith Richards sees you in that dress, he'll be frothing at the mouth like a St Bernard."

Elizabeth's eyebrows furrowed as she stared at him in confusion. He looked so uncomfortable, so stiff and awkward, as if looking at her was too much for him to bare. Then she remembered about their conversation in the car, with how she had lied that she liked a guy at her school called Keith Richards, when really, it was his initials- or so she had naively thought at the time- and it made sense. She knew now why he never realized she'd written a heart with his initials on it. K.R was not his initials to begin with.

"Oh, yeah," she muttered under her breath, moving back towards the stall. She wanted to hide then. She wanted to hide herself from him. "I'm sure Keith Richards will love it. He'll finally ask me out then." There was no Keith Richards at school, of course. Yet, in order to conceal her feelings, she could do nothing else but pretend, to act.

 _Hoping you liked this one? Pardon me for taking so long to update. Hope this makes up for it. Would love to know your thoughts, and again, please excuse any mistakes in English._


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